


Uncovered Issues

by 16woodsequ



Series: Steve Rogers Has PTSD [8]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Age Regression/De-Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Child Steve Rogers, Gen, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Joseph Rogers' A+ Parenting, Protective Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-29
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:27:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 22,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26177977
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/16woodsequ/pseuds/16woodsequ
Summary: When going off to face a group of magic users, Tony and the team hadn't been prepared for Steve to be de-aged into a child version of himself.Tony had been even LESS prepared for the things the incident brings to light about Steve's childhood.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, Steve Rogers & Avengers Team, Steve Rogers & Tony Stark
Series: Steve Rogers Has PTSD [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2124492
Comments: 99
Kudos: 371





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I love de-aged fics, and I see a lot where Tony gets de-aged and the team learns about Howard... and I wanted one that was the other way around.

_Avenger missions would be a lot easier without magic,_ Tony thinks dryly.

Contrary to popular belief, Tony doesn’t hate magic. Being a man of science, magic _confuses_ him sometimes, and he’ll admit that it sometimes feels like just plain cheating… but Thor had been explaining to him that, just like science, magic has rules it has to follow, and he has to admit that trying to learn and test those rules is intriguing sometimes.

_Not sure what rules_ this _follows though,_ he thinks a tad sourly, his chin on his hand as he sits slouching in a SHIELD meeting room, his eyes on Bucky and his… new companion.

Everyone else is staring at him too, or more accurately, the bundle in his arms, because said bundle is _Steve Rogers,_ now several decades younger.

Because _that_ is apparently something magic can do. Tony huffs and rolls his eyes. Waking up today he hadn’t been _intending_ to deal with children at all. He had actually been intending to do some maintenance work on DUM-E and U, but then the Avengers had gotten called out of the Tower, so _that_ plan had been scrapped.

The call _shouldn’t_ have been that difficult, a few magic users – more and more of them have been cropping up lately – were trying to rob a bank or something. They had been busy throwing around balls of green light and blasting walls into dust when the Avengers had arrived, and the magic group hadn’t taken too kindly to the interruption.

Steve had gotten in the way of one of those blasts, but instead of dying, or perhaps, getting blown apart – like Tony’s panicked brain had first thought when Steve’s line had gone dead – he’d been turned into a kid. Bucky had found him in the folds of his now, much too large suit, as the magic users had begun to teleport away, and the Avengers had been left with an empty bank, vasts amounts of property damage, and a four year old.

“He’s six,” Bucky had claimed immediately, despite Steve’s size. Clint, who had been the one to guess at Steve’s age – who would probably know these things, given his three kids – had looked skeptical.

“How do you know?” he’d asked, glancing over the thin, tiny, silent child, clinging to Bucky’s uniform.

“He knows me,” Bucky had said with a shrug. “And he doesn’t know any of you. We met when we were six, so he can’t be younger than that.”

Tony has to admit that his logic is rather sound. Steve seems to have reverted completely back into the child he had once been, seventy-something years ago, and Tony can’t help being shocked at how small and frail he looks. He’d known Steve had been sick as a kid, but this… he looks ready to fall over at a gust of wind. It probably doesn’t help that the kid is obviously terrified of them, which, is probably fair.

He can’t imagine what it would be like to wake up as a six-year-old, to find your friend suddenly much older and also surrounded by complete strangers and strange tech. _That_ had been an unforeseen consequence of Steve latching on to Bucky. It’s harder to explain away the seventy-year gap to him because Steve already knows something strange has happened.

He’s not exactly sure what Bucky had said to him, but it's probably a miracle in itself that Steve is willing to hold on to him at all, although Tony supposes that given the choice between your weirdly aged friend, and a bunch of strangers, said adult friend would win out.

Bucky had obviously won out _massively_ , because Steve has yet to let go of him, and when Fury had suggested keeping Steve somewhere else for their post-mission meeting, the child had very quickly reminded everyone that he has asthma, and Bucky had given a new meaning to the word ‘death-glare’.

So now Bucky is holding child-Steve, and the rest of them have to figure out what to do about it.

“Do you know why this happened?” Fury asks, looking down the table to Thor, and Tony looks too. Out of all of them Thor is the most likely to know what is going on. Unfortunately, the god shakes his head.

“I am not an expert on Earth magic or its properties,” he says, glancing over at Steve. “Without knowing the spell that turned our Captain into what he is now, I cannot begin to guess anything about it.”

Across from him, Natasha leans forward. “Do you know anything about spells like this?” she asks. “Do they wear-off?”

Thor doesn’t look optimistic. “The best way to solve this would be to find whoever cast the spell in the first place,” he explains.

Fury lets out a frustrated sigh, and out of the corner of his eye, Tony sees Bucky begin to rub his hand over Steve’s back, the de-aged Captain still clinging to him with his face pressed into his neck. “Stark,” Fury asks suddenly, dragging Tony’s attention back to him. “Do you have any way to track these people?”

Tony frowns. “Don’t you?” he asks, slightly annoyed that he’d been expected to somehow keep track of the magic users. “I mean, I scanned them during the fight, but I thought it was kind of _your_ job to keep an eye on dangerous people.”

He’s on edge, because of Steve’s predicament, and his tone is probably a little sharper than necessary, and he winces internally as Fury’s lips thin in response. “Well,” he says coldly. “It might be a little easier for us to do that, if we had a monitoring system to do so. Such as the Helicarriers.”

Tony scowls, his guilt over his tone wiped away. “Which I’m never helping you design, ever again,” he responds sharply, the memory of what had almost happened – with _his_ engine designs – not far from mind. After that whole fiasco he had pulled the rights to his engines so that SHIELD couldn’t use them anymore, and Fury is obviously still a little bitter.

“Yes, well,” Fury continues, his gaze flat. “We’ll keep an eye out for our culprits, but it will take longer to find them, unless they try to pull another stunt like the one they just did.”

Whether it’s his imagination or not, Tony can’t help feeling like it’s being implied that it is somehow _his_ fault that Steve might be stuck as a child – which irks him, because _SHIELD_ had been the one to be infested with Hydra, and it is _his right_ to refuse them afterwards – and he sits up stiffly.

_“Look—_ ” He starts, and then Bucky shifts.

“Everyone is going to stop yelling. Now,” he says, his voice calm, but underlined with steel. “You’re scaring Steve.”

Tony looks over, and Bucky runs his hand over Steve’s back again. Steve doesn’t move, or even make a sound, but his tiny fist is white from where it’s balled up in Bucky’s uniform. Tony deflates slightly and breathes in, sitting back in his chair. Usually Steve is the one who keeps everyone civil and on track after a stressful mission, but he isn’t here right now, because he’s busy being a six-year-old in Bucky’s arms.

Next to him, Bruce nudges his foot in a silent _Are you okay?_ gesture, and Tony gives a tiny fraction of a nod in his direction, breathing in through his nose again as he works on relaxing.

“Okay,” Clint speaks up in the newfound silence. “SHIELD will try to find the spellcasters, and in the meantime, we look after Steve?”

“I will return to Asgard,” Thor decides. “Perhaps they will have something there to aid us.”

The other Avengers nod at that, and Fury clears his throat, bringing their attention back to him. “I’ll notify you if we find anything,” he says. “For now, you are all off-duty, unless there is an unprecedented emergency. Barnes,” he glances up. “I’m guessing keeping Steve here won’t go over well–” Bucky glares at the mere mention of the idea, and Fury continues smoothly, “–but please clear him through medical before you leave. They can give you what he needs, given his current circumstances.”

Bucky nods in agreement and they break up after that, Bucky keeping his arms around Steve as he stands and makes his way towards the door. “We just gotta go see a doctor, Stevie,” he says quietly. “Then we can go home.”

Steve shifts and speaks for the first time since his first few panicked questions on the battlefield. “’M not sick,” he says, his voice rushed and high. “’M not.”

Tony blinks slightly at the Brooklyn accent, which Steve seems to have mostly lost as an adult, and he finds himself following Bucky out of the room, the rest of the Avengers trailing after him silently.

Bucky rubs a calming hand over Steve’s back again. “I know you’re not,” he says easily as he walks down the hall. “We just want to make sure you’re okay after what happened. Remember the bad guys I told you about?”

Steve nods into his neck, and Tony catches sight of his little eyes flicking around under his blond hair. Their gaze meets for a second and Steve ducks his chin deeper so that his eyes are hidden again. His arm is hooked around Bucky’s shoulder, so that he can hang on, and Tony watches as his hand tightens on Bucky’s uniform again, the little knuckles going white.

All in all, this is not what Tony would have expected from a child-Cap. Oh, he understands that the kid is probably completely overwhelmed by the new situation, but from the stories he’s heard from both Steve and Bucky – and Howard – Steve had been a defiant child, ready to stand up to any bully and finding trouble around every corner.

_Maybe he’ll relax once he gets settled,_ he thinks as he and the rest of the Avengers follow Bucky into the med-bay.

The doctors know by now that it’s pointless trying to keep them away from their injured teammates, so they let them all come in, but they do confine them to an out-of-the-way spot by the doorway, forcing them to watch from a distance as Bucky goes over to sit on one of the beds.

“This is Doctor Freedman,” Bucky murmurs to Steve, and the boy raises his head slightly to squint at the white-coated doctor approaching him. “He helps me a lot. He’s very nice.”

Doctor Freedman had been one of the first doctors to gain Bucky’s trust after Hydra, and he smiles as he approaches Steve, bending down slightly to look at him. “Nice to meet you,” he says gently. “My name is Elijah.”

Steve’s arms loosen just slightly from around Bucky, and he lets himself half-turn towards the doctor. “Your hair’s fuzzy,” he says very softly, his eyes fixed on the man’s afro.

Freedman laughs, and the sound seems to put Steve more at ease, the child relaxing further as the doctor pulls up a rolling stool and sits in front of him. “It sure is,” Freedman replies easily, leaning forward with his hands on his knees. He reaches up to twiddle the stethoscope around his neck. “Would it be alright if I listened to your heart for a minute?”

Steve stays silent for a moment, his eyes flicking over the doctor, before he glances briefly at Bucky. His lips press together for a moment and he pushes himself up to whisper something in his ear. Steve’s hands are white on his uniform again once he comes down, his eyes wide and his face pale as he searches Bucky’s face.

Tony’s not sure exactly what he’d said, but Bucky seems very intent on keeping a calm, neutral expression on his face. “You don’t have to worry about bills here, Steve,” he says very gently, and Tony finds himself swallowing uneasily. “These doctors don’t cost anything.”

That is a bit of an oversimplification, but it seems to relax Steve, and he looks back towards Doctor Freedman. “I’m not sick,” he says decisively, the tilt of his chin almost reminiscent of his old self. So is his refusal to be ill or injured, which had been a point of contention between his adult self and med-bay many times. “But.” Steve flicks his eyes over the doctor. “I guess you can do a check-up. If it’s free.”

Doctor Freedman smiles at that and pulls out his stethoscope. He must either have children, or have worked with them before, because his bedside manner seems to be perfect at keeping Steve at ease while he guides him through the very thorough check-up. They need to check for all his previous ailments, as well as make sure the magic spell hadn’t done any thing _else_ to him, so the examination is a bit more in depth than most, but Steve doesn’t complain about any of it.

He keeps at least one hand on Bucky for most of it though, letting go reluctantly – as if he’s afraid Bucky might disappear if he doesn’t hang onto him – the one or two times he needs both hands for Doctor Freedman. He's silent for most of it too, only replying with one or two words to the occasional question from Freedman.

Tony and the Avengers remain quiet too as they wait, until Natasha nudges him about halfway through and raises an eyebrow at him. “If Steve is going to be staying at the Tower,” she says. “Then we’ll probably need some things for him.”

Tony blinks at the realisation and immediately pulls out his phone. The weirdness of the situation had made him forget, but of course, Steve will need things like clothes, and child dishes, and maybe even toys, if he’s going to be staying in the Tower. He’s currently dressed in some emergency children’s clothes from SHIELD’s relief fund, but he’ll need other things too.

“Clint, you’re a dad,” he says, turning to the archer. “What kinds of things does he need?”

Kids need a lot of stuff, apparently, although Tony tries to keep in mind that too much stuff might overwhelm Steve – he is _six_ and busy worrying over _hospital bills_ – but he spends most of the rest of the check-up placing orders for things to arrive for them at the Tower.

“Looks like his health now matches what it used to be,” he overhears Doctor Freedman tell Bucky as the check-up begins to wind down. “We can give you some inhalers for his asthma— have you ever used one?” Bucky shakes his head and the doctor spends the next few minutes explaining the devices to both him and Steve.

“We didn’t have those before,” Steve whispers, his eyes wide as Bucky pockets the inhalers. “Are they expensive?”

“No,” Bucky tells him firmly. “These are free for you.”

Steve seems to accept that, and Doctor Freedman goes through a few other things, handing Bucky some vitamins and some child’s pain medication. “His heart is still weak,” he says, and Steve ducks his head, his jaw clenching slightly. “Avoid overexertion, and keep an eye out for colds, also headaches if his eyes bother him.”

He reaches over and hands Bucky a pamphlet, which the man glances at before tucking away. “We don’t know how long this will last,” Freedman says. “So for now we can’t do much for his back. But the scoliosis isn’t too severe, so try to do those exercises at least once a day for pain relief and flexibility.”

Bucky nods, as if he knows all these things – which he probably does – before finally collecting Steve and standing up. “You did good,” he tells him quietly, the boy once again tucked up against his neck. “Let’s go home.”

oOo

Steve remains wide-eyed and silent once they get to the Tower, continuing to cling to Bucky as they give him a brief tour of the common room. There is a package on the counter of the common room kitchen already, probably his dishes, but the rest is most likely in Bucky’s room. “You’ll stay with me for now,” Bucky tells him. “But you’re allowed to go pretty much anywhere in the Tower if you want to.”

_If he manages to unglue himself from you,_ Tony thinks wryly as he follows Bucky into the common room and stretches, glad to be back in normal clothes.

“Are you hungry?” Bucky asks as the other Avengers slowly begin to disperse. Bruce goes to rest in his room, and Thor leaves to collect a few things before his trip home, while Clint and Natasha head towards the couches of the common room.

In Bucky’s arms, Steve remains silent for a second too long, and Tony pauses as he catches a glimpse of _something_ flickering over Bucky’s face, the look gone too fast for him to read. The next second, Bucky gives up on waiting and hoists Steve a little higher in his arms, heading over towards the fridge.

“We have lots of food here,” he hears Bucky tells Steve quietly as he opens it to show him. “Tony buys a lot of food for all of us to eat.”

The uneasy feeling is back in his stomach and he catches sight of Steve’s quick glance in his direction before the kid shifts in Bucky’s arms, chewing on his bottom lip as he eyes the stocked fridge. “I’m a _little_ hungry,” he admits finally, his eyes dropping to the floor.

Bucky nods and takes in a silent breath. “That’s good,” he says, putting a smile on his face. “Cuz I’m hungry too.”

Steve seems to relax at that, and Tony finds himself making his way over to the bar next to the kitchen, his mind intent on one thing. Today had been a rollercoaster, and Steve isn’t helping anything. He keeps… making his stomach churn. He’d known the man had been poor – but he’s _six_ , he shouldn’t have to be talked into eating.

He lets out a breath before reaching for a glass and a bottle of spiced rum, pouring himself a fingerful for his nerves. He puts the bottle away after that, because it’s too early to really be drinking, but the glass in his hand at least gives him something to do while he tries to come to terms with everything that had happened today.

Across from him in the kitchen, Bucky has somehow managed to convince Steve to detach himself from his side and sit on the counter, the boy watching him carefully while Bucky heats up some soup on the stove for the both of them.

“You don’t have to light a fire,” Steve comments after a moment, and Bucky turns to smile at him, a spoon in hand.

“No, you don’t need coal for this stove,” he says. “This one uses electricity.”

An impressed look flickers over Steve’s face, and Tony finds himself smiling a little as he sips at his glass, his eyes on the bony line of Steve’s back. He leans on the counter for a moment and wonders what else they can offer Steve – without overwhelming him. They’d had movies back then, right? Maybe they could show him a few newer ones now—

The thought gets cut off as he sets down his glass, the cup clacking gently against the marble countertop. He only sees it because he’s looking, but on top of the counter, Steve twitches slightly at the sound, his spine straightening as he glances towards him.

Tony finds himself pinned by solemn blue eyes, and he pauses with his hand still around the glass. Steve is completely still as he watches him, and he flicks his eyes over the boy, trying to figure him out. _Wait,_ he thinks, inspiration dawning. _When did prohibition start? Is that the problem?_

“It’s not illegal anymore,” he says, picking up the glass again. Steve twitches again at his words, and his head ducks slightly, his hands tightening on the counter under him. He flicks his eyes over Tony once more, his gaze seeming to linger on the glass, before he swallows and turns back to Bucky, his shoulders stiffer than before.

Tony isn’t exactly sure what to make of that, and when he looks up to Bucky for guidance, the man’s face is shadowed, his lips a thin line. The look is gone in an instant though as he turns back to Steve, getting out a bowl for himself and digging into the package on the counter for one for Steve. It’s colourful and plastic and he sets it in front of a chair next to the counter, ignoring Tony while he encourages Steve to sit down properly so that he can eat.

Tony glances around helplessly and it’s only the fact that Natasha and Clint are both silent on the couches, their gazes on the duo in the kitchen too, that lets him know that something strange had just happened and he hadn’t just imagine the whole thing.

He finishes what’s left in his glass quickly – the taste sour in his mouth now – before he sets it in the sink and turns towards the elevator. He looks up once as he leaves, and Steve’s eyes are on him again, his gaze following him silently the whole way.

oOo

He tries not to think about it too hard.

He and Steve had clashed sometimes in real life, so he supposes it’s probably too much of a reach to expect his younger self to like him much, especially considering how overwhelmed the kid probably is. He’s honestly a little surprised how well he seems to be taking it. So far, there hasn’t been one single screaming meltdown, even though the kid is more or less stranded in an alien world full of strangers.

He stays down in his labs until supper time, trying to work on some magic resistant cuffs – ones that people _can’t_ teleport out of. He doesn’t get much done though. There is no handy guidebook for ‘How to Cope when your Team Leader gets turned into a Child’, and he finds he can’t keep his mind off of the sickly boy for long.

“JARVIS, do we have a record of Steve’s illnesses?” he asks finally, giving up on doing any real work today. If he can’t focus, he might as well study up on the Steve they seem to be stuck with for the time being.

JARVIS displays the list for him on a screen, and he can’t help blinking at how _long_ the thing is. It's one from Steve’s adult years, so it’s not 100% accurate for now, (he’d gone half-deaf at eleven, so his hearing is fine now), and there are probably a few illnesses on there that he hasn’t had yet, but the rest of it…

_Asthma, sinusitis, chronic or frequent colds, high blood pressure, palpitation or pounding in the heart, fatigue, heart and nerve trouble, astigmatism, colourblindness, scoliosis, stomach ulcers, pernicious anemia…_ the list goes on and he rubs at his temples.

“How is this kid even alive?” he mumbles under his breath. Not only is Steve chronically ill, but he is also probably in constant low-level pain. His mind flashes back to the pain meds that Doctor Freedman had given Bucky, and he hopes that those help a little.

He has to come out of his lab for supper, and he makes his way up to the common room to where Bruce is busy making the team supper. “I’m making tuna casserole,” Bruce tells him when he arrives. “Bucky tells me it’s a recipe Steve enjoys.”

Tony nods at that and begins to set the island counter that doubles as their dining table. Clint and Natasha show up about half-way through, and Clint cracks a smile as he pokes at Steve’s plastic dish set. “This is almost exactly like what we’ve got at home,” he says. “Although my oldests have mostly moved on to glass dishware.”

He sets a small plastic cup down for Natasha to fill with water and Tony looks up from where he’s setting out the last of the forks, the sound of the elevator alerting him to the last of the arrivals. Thor is gone by now, so Bucky and Steve are the only ones missing, and the duo step out of the elevator, Steve trailing beside Bucky with his one hand clenched on to his pant leg.

He’s out of the SHIELD issued clothes now at least, dressed instead in some of the clothes Tony had ordered for him, and he’s glad they seem to fit. Steve is so small (and children’s clothes sizes are confusing all by themselves) that he hadn’t been certain he’d gotten the sizing right.

“Look,” Bucky says as they come forward, placing a hand comfortingly on Steve’s head. “Bruce made your favourite. You remember him, right?”

Steve nods quietly, his large eyes darting over them all as he clings to Bucky like a shadow. “Hi Steve,” Clint calls, giving the small boy a smile and offering him a wave. “I’m glad you could join us.”

Steve doesn’t smile back, instead staring at him for a few seconds, his eyes wide. After a few moments he nods again, and Clint keeps smiling as if this all isn’t extremely awkward. Tony lets out a quiet breath and tries to keep from fidgeting. There _really_ needs to be some kind of guidebook for this sort of thing. Maybe he’ll write one once this is all over.

_If it_ gets _over,_ he thinks as the Avengers sit down and wait for Bruce to set out the food, Bucky helping Steve up to sit next to him in front of the plastic dishware. They don’t even actually know if this is reversible, hopefully Thor or SHIELD will find something, but until then… they just have to wait.

He shoves that thought away for now and goes to dish up. A few chairs down from him, Bucky offers Steve pills for his anemia, and then helps serve up his portion, the boy’s eyes widening slightly at the amount he’s given. He looks up as if for guidance, but Bucky just flashes him a small smile and nudges him towards his fork.

The meal is quieter than usual, probably because nobody can think of what to say, now that Steve doesn’t really know them, but Clint congratulates Bruce enthusiastically on the food and they dig in, all more or less watching Steve out of the corners of their eyes, as if one meal will somehow fill out his bony structure.

Eventually, Tony can’t take it anymore. “So Steve,” he starts, and the boy pauses instantly to look at him, his steady, wide-eyed gaze slightly disconcerting. Tony clears his throat. “Did Bucky get a chance to show you your things? Are they okay?”

He had tried to keep from going overboard in his shopping for Steve. From his experience with the man himself, he knows that Steve is pretty frugal, so he’d only gotten him a few sets of clothes, a couple of blankets (he’d forgone an actual kid’s bed, figuring Bucky would probably just set Steve up to sleep on his couch or something), a stuffed bear at Clint’s recommendation, some pencil crayons at Natasha’s recommendation, a puzzle (Bruce’s idea) and two Lego sets (his idea). Hopefully those will be enough to keep Steve occupied until they figure out a way to change him back.

Back in his seat, Steve sets down his fork and draws his hands into his lap. “They’re good. Thank you, sir,” he says, his eyes on his plate.

Tony pauses with his own fork half-way to his mouth, the increasingly familiar wiggling, uncomfortable feeling back in his stomach. He coughs and clears his throat again. “You can just call me Tony,” he says awkwardly, Steve’s eyes flicking up to him and away again.

After that, Clint jumps in, managing to get out of Steve his favourite colour (blue), before trying to engage with him a little. “My kids like drawing a lot,” he says with a smile, and Tony isn’t sure it that’s true, or just something to put Steve more at ease. “Do you like drawing?”

Steve glances up at Bucky for a second before turning back to Clint, nervously massaging the fork between his fingers. “Yeah, sometimes,” he admits quietly, his eyes darting around Clint like he’s not completely certain if he’s allowed to look at him.

Clint’s smile grows slightly. “Great,” he says. “We should draw together sometime.”

Steve nods a little uncertainly at him, before swallowing and turning back to his food, eating much neater than Tony would have expected for a six-year-old. He’d be the first to admit though, that he doesn’t know much about small children, so maybe it’s not that unusual.

“Okay,” Bucky says, once Steve’s finished clearing the last of his plate. “Now we can put it in the dishwasher. Remember that from lunch?” Steve nods, a small smile flickering over his face for the first time that day. Bucky must have shown him the dishwasher after Tony had gone down to the lab, and Steve begins to collect his dishes into a pile on his plate in preparation.

Bucky gathers his own dishes as Steve pushes himself away from the counter, and Tony can’t help admitting that the kid looks unbearably cute when he hops down, his dishes clutched to his chest. His eyes follow Steve as he heads around the counter towards the dishwasher, and Bucky trails a few feet behind.

He’s not exactly sure what it is – if Steve trips over his own feet, or if the floor is uneven – but one second he’s walking forward, and the next he’s nearly falling on his face, his dishes flying out of his hands and scattering across the floor as he scrambles to catch himself.

Tony winces, immediately glad that he’d thought to buy a plastic set, and across from him, Bruce stands up, moving forward with his hand out to help Steve gather himself.

He doesn’t make it. Steve’s head snaps up at his approach, and he flinches back, his hands pulling into his chest as his face pales and his breath catches. “I-I’m sorry,” he stutters, his eyes wide as he pulls away further, his shoulders hunching. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

His breath catches again, and Bucky is beside him in an instant, crouched in between him and the now frozen Bruce. “It’s okay Stevie,” Tony hears him murmur quickly, the boy’s eyes locking on to him. “It’s alright. Remember that new thing I was tellin’ you about? Plastic? That’s what the dishes are made of, they’re not broken.”

Steve’s eyes dart around, as if to confirm Bucky’s claim, and his friend leans forward to gently grab one of his shaking hands. “You’re alright Stevie, you’re safe here,” he says, Tony’s stomach giving an unpleasant lurch at his words. “Can you take in a few breaths for me?”

Bucky breathes in carefully, his eyes completely focused on Steve as the boy copies him, sucking in a few shaky breaths, the colour gradually beginning to return to his face as he breathes. Tony swallows and glances around. Like him, the rest of the Avengers seem to be completely taken off-guard by the scene, sitting in silent shock as they watch Bucky calm Steve down.

Tony’s mind flashes back to Steve’s flinch when Bruce had started coming towards him, and he swallows down a wave of nausea. He knows that look. He knows it because that had been _him_ as a child, but— but Steve is just overwhelmed by the situation. He couldn’t— his dad couldn’t have— he couldn’t have been like Howard. Right?

_You’re safe here,_ Bucky had said, and Tony swallows heavily.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tony learns some more about Steve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Vomit

He can’t get the memory of Steve’s pale, scared face out of his head, and he sits immobile in his lab the next day, the pieces of the cuffs out in front of him, his mind completely elsewhere. Now that his brain had caught onto the suspicion, he can’t seem to let it go.

He’d assumed that most of Steve’s behavior had been due to the fact that he’s six and completely at a loss with the world right now. He had woken up, terrified, and in a battlefield, nearly naked, with nobody he knew except for one friend, who seems to have aged several decades.

But what if there is more to it than that? Steve’s silence, his caution, his worry over the cost of things… his reaction to Tony’s drinking… Tony winces at the thought. He hadn’t been intending to scare the kid, maybe if he’d been thinking, he wouldn’t have drunk anything in front of him… but he had, and Steve had been… tense… about it.

Tony can still remember his _own_ feelings about his dad’s drinking. He can remember the quiet fear at the sound of clinking glass (and the sound of _breaking_ glass whenever Howard got mad). He can remember counting bottles, counting glasses, trying to judge the amount of drink still left over – trying to decide if tonight would be a good night or not…

But— but he’d thought that Steve’s dad had been _dead_. Sure, Steve didn’t really seem to _talk_ about him much, but, hadn’t the man fought in the First World War? That is pretty much all Steve had ever said about him. _He fought in the war, and he died._

…He can’t help noticing how Steve had never actually said that his dad had died _in_ the war.

Tony shakes his head. He’s getting ahead of himself. He doesn’t even know for sure if Steve really _had_ been, well… abused. But he can’t stop thinking about the flinch. The stupid blasted flinch, and the tight, scared note in Steve’s voice when he’d tried to apologize…

It _had_ to be his dad, right? Sarah Rogers would never— Steve and Bucky had only ever had praise for the woman, and they’d talked a lot more about her than his father… But hadn’t he been _dead?_

He huffs out a frustrated breath and sits up. “JARVIS,” he calls out. “Do we have any records on Steve’s father?”

JARVIS is silent for a moment, before a hologram lights up in front of Tony’s face, showing the personnel file of one, Joseph Rogers.

 **Joseph “Joe” Rogers** , it reads.

 _Birth:_ Sept. 19, 1887

 _Death:_ Aug. 8, 1926

So not dead in the war then.

There are a few more lines about Joseph’s service in the 107th Infantry Regiment, including when he had become a gas casualty, but he’d obviously been very much alive at the end of the war. Tony sits back and runs some quick calculations in his head. _1926, so Steve would have been eight when he died._

“I really thought his dad was dead,” he mutters, running a hand over his face.

JARVIS speaks up, drawing his eyes to the holo-screen again, a new set of documents on display. “It would seem, Sir,” he says, “that Captain Rogers routinely claimed his father died of mustard gas while he was falsifying his identity and attempting to join the army.”

Tony blinks and sits up. “What did he really die of?” he asks.

“Influenza, Sir.”

Okay… so Steve’s father _hadn’t_ died in the war… but he had made a habit of pretending that he had, for some reason.

Great.

oOo

He manages to make a little progress on the cuffs and leaves JARVIS to run simulations on them while he goes up to the common room for lunch and coffee. As he steps out of the elevator, he is instantly pinned by a stare from the couches where Steve, Bucky, and Clint are kneeling around the coffee table, paper and pencil crayons spread out around them.

Tony waves awkwardly and Steve goes back to his drawing as he retreats to the kitchen, making a sandwich mostly on automatic while he thinks over the child-sized Captain in his living room.

Steve is obviously nervous about being in the Tower and around all the Avengers, even with Bucky’s influence. And…even if he hasn’t been abused, he still deserves to feel safe, so… it’s probably up to them to help him see that they are trustworthy.

It’s to that end that he finds himself drifting over to the group after lunch, a coffee cup in his hand as he looks them over. He'd been intending to compliment their use of colour or something simple like that in an effort to put Steve at ease, but he doesn’t even get a chance to open his mouth before Steve is tensing and pulling away slightly from his paper, his eyes on Tony.

“Bucky said we could use the paper,” he says quickly, his voice tight – like he doesn’t think Tony will believe him – but his eyes hard, as if daring him to try. “He says it’s extra. We’re not wasting it.”

Both Bucky and Clint stop drawing at his words, Clint looking at a loss and Bucky looking slightly pained. His eyes flick helplessly to Tony and then back down to the defiant blond next to him.

This is sort of more what Tony had been expecting when Steve had been turned into a kid. Except… he’s still scared. He’s speaking out as though he expects Tony to be mad at him. But why he’s looking to _him_ for that— oh wait. Tony swallows and his mind flashes back. _We’re not wasting it_.

He already knows that Steve is extremely anxious about the cost of things, and Bucky has already told him that Tony is the one that buys the food for the Tower, and Steve already knows that Tony had been the one to buy his things. Obviously Steve has identified him as the one who pays for most things… and now he’s worried that Tony will be mad at him for using his paper.

“No,” Tony gets out, his mind spinning because he has absolutely _no_ idea how to correct the conclusions that Steve has come to. “No, I don’t mind. That’s fine. Use as much paper as you want.” He breathes in to cut off his rambling and Steve eyes him for a moment longer before he relaxes slightly, his fingers loosening from around his pencil.

“Thank you,” he mumbles, his eyes dropping down to his paper.

Tony hides his wince by sipping his coffee and Clint and Bucky seem to let out a collective breath of relief as the situation de-escalates. They go back to colouring for a few moments and Tony shifts on his feet, aware that everything is probably a bit more subdued now that he is here.

So much for putting Steve at ease.

He breathes in and resolves to try again. If Steve is anxious about wasting his paper, then maybe he can convince him that he doesn’t mind his art.

“What’cha drawing?” he asks, aiming for a light tone of voice as he sits down on the couch, lowering himself so that he isn’t looming over anybody.

Steve’s head darts up again and his fingers clench on his pencil as he stares at Tony, his eyes darting over Clint and Bucky uncertainly.

Clint seems to pick up on Tony’s plan, because he jumps in. “ _I’m_ drawing dinosaurs,” he says proudly, turning his paper to show Tony. For his part, Tony leans forward and takes a moment to appreciate the rudimentary drawing, fully aware of Steve’s lingering gaze.

“Looks nice,” he tells Clint, wondering internally if this is actually doing anything for Steve. “What about you, Buck?” Bucky seems to be on board the whole ‘act-casual-around-Steve’ plan, and he shows Tony a picture of a beach, complete with starfish and dolphins.

“What about you Steve?” Tony asks finally, his voice softening slightly, quietly hoping that the boy will answer this time.

In front of him Steve swallows but holds up his paper. “I’m drawing Bucky,” he says, a figure drawn mostly in black, fighting green blasts from some characters down the page. “He has a metal arm now to fight bad guys.”

A small smile flickers over Bucky’s face at that, and Tony can’t help his own smile. “He sure does,” he says, glad that Steve seems to be coping with the changes to his friend. He imagines that he and Bucky had had a lot to talk about last night.

Mission accomplished, sort of, he is about to stand up and retreat back down to the lab, when Bucky turns to him. “Do you want to draw too?” he asks suddenly.

Tony looks over and can’t help noticing the flash of nervousness that passes over Steve’s face at the offer, but Bucky has a look in his eye that makes him think the man might be on to something.

So, Tony finds himself kneeling at the coffee table too, his feet cramping underneath him as he shares colours and animatedly narrates his artistic process. He thinks maybe Steve relaxes a little bit around him by the end of it.

“This is Pepper,” he says, grabbing some red for her hair. “She’s great. Did you know one time she threatened to spray my security team with pepper spray? That’s where she got her name.”

Steve’s eyes are wide, but in awe this time, instead of fear. Tony smiles at that and continues, grabbing a brown crayon. “Besides that, I’ve got my friend Rhodey. He and I went to school together–” The elevator dings open behind them, and Tony glances over to see Natasha exiting the lift, the woman giving them a wave before heading over towards the kitchen and pulling open the fridge. He turns back to his story. “I was mostly studying engineering but Rhodey—”

There is a clatter and a sudden spew of Russian cursing as something falls to the ground, but that is not what catches his attention. In front of him, Steve goes from interested to fearful again, his face going tight as his eyes dart over to the kitchen, his entire body tensing as his fist goes white around his pencil.

Tony does his own cursing in the privacy of his mind and turns his head towards the kitchen, keeping one eye on Steve. “You okay, Nat?” he calls.

“Yeah,” a voice calls back, and Steve doesn’t move, his eyes still trained on the kitchen. “I just dropped the juice all over the floor.” The voice turns rueful. “We need more orange juice now.”

Beside him, Clint lets out a quiet laugh and stands up. “And you call _me_ the clumsy one,” he teases gently as he heads off to help. Natasha quips back something at him in Russian and Tony is left to turn back to Steve, the boy now darting his eyes back and forth between him and the kitchen, as if trying to gage his reaction.

Tony flicks his eyes to Bucky for a moment before glancing back at Steve and carefully shrugging. “Guess we’ll have to drink apple juice now,” he says, hoping to reassure the boy.

Steve seems unsure how to respond to that, but he doesn’t get much of a chance. “Steve,” Bucky jumps in, grabbing a new sheet of paper in an apparent attempt to lift the heavy atmosphere. “Did you know that Tony’s built his own robots?”

That seems to catch his attention and Steve glances at him, his mouth open in a mixture of shock and awe. Tony relaxes. “You should come see them sometime,” he says, latching on to the topic change and attempting not to think too hard about Steve’s reaction to loud noises. “They’re pretty great, even if they are overenthusiastic with the fire extinguisher.”

Despite the incident with Natasha, the drawing session seems to go rather well, even if Steve seems to be drooping a little by the end of it. Bucky frowns when he sees Steve’s tired blinking, his head now propped up against his hand as he half-heartedly colours in his latest creation.

“Are you feeling alright, Steve?” he asks, lifting his right hand to feel the boy’s forehead. Steve flinches away slightly and ducks out from under him, rubbing his eyes.

“’M not sick,” he protests, although Tony can’t help noticing how he looks a little paler than he had the day before. He swallows nervously, his mind flashing back to the list of illnesses he had seen earlier. Could Steve have caught something already? They had found him on a battlefield – and he is in a completely new environment – with his poor immune system, it is possible he could be sick. What if he is? What do they do then—?

Bucky frowns slightly at Steve’s denial but he doesn’t say anything further, instead turning to start packing up the paper and pencils. “Well,” he says. “Let me know if you are. For now, we should go down to the gym and practice those stretches Doctor Freedman gave us. I think Bruce said he wanted to come with us.”

Steve nods quietly at that, his eyes not quite meeting Bucky’s, before he helps put away the pencils and gather up the paper he’d used. “See you at supper,” Bucky tells Tony as he reaches out for Steve’s hand so they can start heading towards the elevator.

“Bye,” Tony says, waving in what he hopes is a friendly manner. “See you later Steve.”

Steve glances at him, and gives him a slight nod, his face still pale.

He hopes he isn’t sick.

oOo

He spends the rest of the day in his labs tweaking the cuffs. The simulations had been promising, but he’s still working off of incomplete data. He really only has his scans of Loki’s magic and the magic users of Earth, which is less useful than an actual magic person to test on. It’ll have to do though. Hopefully the cuffs will be enough to catch whoever did this to Steve.

Once they find them.

Which is currently SHIELD’s problem and _not_ something he is worrying about right now.

Instead he goes up for supper. Clint is cooking today, and when he steps out of the elevator, he is met by the mouth-watering smell of spaghetti. When Clint had first moved part-time into the Tower everyone had sort of expected him to be a terrible cook, but he’d informed them that he’d learned quickly once he’d had kids.

Natasha and Bruce are already setting the table and Tony drifts over, noting the plastic set for Steve. Hopefully they can get through today’s meal with out any minor disasters this time.

The elevator doors ding open just as he’s sitting down, and he looks over to see Steve and Bucky approaching, the boy clutching at his pantleg again. “Hi Steve,” Bruce says, offering him a warm smile as the duo come over to sit down.

Steve looks up and lifts his hand in a weak wave, his lips pressing up slightly. Ordinarily Tony would have been elated by his responsiveness, but he can’t help noticing as Bucky helps him onto his stool that Steve looks even paler than he did a few hours ago.

There is a tightness to his face that makes him look slightly miserable, and he seems to eye the food with apprehension, his teeth clenched while Bucky serves up his portion and hands him his pills.

Tony isn’t exactly sure what to do with that, and one quick glance around the table shows that he isn’t the only one. He ends up keeping an eye on Steve as they eat, and he sees Bucky side-eying the boy as well, a few lines of worry around his mouth as he eats.

The Avengers try to chat a little to keep the meal from being too silent, but it’s obvious that Steve has taken up most of their attention, even if they don’t actually say anything about it. Next to Bucky, Steve’s pace is slower and more laboured than last night. Bucky had cut up his food for him, but he seems to still be having a difficult time, the boy moving almost mechanically as he eats.

“Steve, are you alright?” Bucky asks after a while, and Tony glances over at them, noting the faint sheen of sweat now collecting on Steve’s brow.

Steve’s hand tightens on his fork and he breathes in, swallowing heavily. “I’m not sick,” he gets out, his eyes trained intently on the edge of his plate. He breathes in again and shudders slightly— and Tony gives a start as he realises suddenly that the kid is bracing himself, fighting against—

Steve throws up, gagging over his plate as he coughs up half-digested noodles and sauce. The hair on the back of Tony’s neck stands on end and he gives a full body shiver at the sound, his skin crawling unhappily as he tries not to breathe in.

He gets distracted from his own reaction soon enough though, because Steve’s is worse.

There are tears in his eyes thanks to his heaving, and he wipes them away quickly, drawing his arm over his mouth as he pulls away, his breath catching. His eyes are wide, and he flinches when Bucky reaches for him, his breath stuttering as he just barely manages to keep from falling off the stool.

“Sorry, sorry,” he rushes out, his shoulders hunching in on himself as he leans away from Bruce on his other side, his breathing speeding up. “I wasn’t– I wasn’t tryna waste it, I wasn’t— I’m not—”

He sucks in a breath and gags again, although nothing comes up this time, thankfully. Next to him, Bruce looks agonised, caught between wanting to help and realising that interfering will probably cause Steve to spiral further. On the other side of Steve, Bucky’s face folds down into a focused mask as he pushes away from the island and stands up, reaching for Steve again.

Steve’s breath hiccups when he grabs him, his head ducking as he flinches away from him. “I didn’t— I’m not—” His breath is getting thinner and faster as he wheezes, and Bucky reaches into the cargo pockets of his pants to pull out an inhaler.

“It’s alright Stevie,” he says, leaning down slightly as he removes the cap from the inhaler. “You’re sick.”

In front of him, Steve shakes his head, his face pale. “I’m—”

“It’s okay,” Bucky cuts in gently. “No one’s mad at you Steve. We’re just going to calm down, alright?” He lifts the inhaler. “You remember this? This’ll help you breathe better, so I need you to sit up straight Stevie.”

Steve complies the best he can, and Bucky shakes the inhaler, reaching to tilt Steve’s chin up slightly. Steve twitches at his touch, but his hands reach up to grasp Bucky’s hand, his breath coming in gasps, tears forming again in his eyes.

“Okay, Steve,” Bucky starts, his voice determinedly calm. “I need you to breathe out, and then start breathing in when I put the inhaler in your mouth. Keep breathing in when I press it down, okay?”

Steve gives a small nod and breathes out the best he can, his body shaking slightly with the effort. Bucky places the inhaler in his mouth and Steve starts breathing in, the sound of a small puff of pressurized air filling the room as Bucky pushes down on the top of the inhaler. “Okay, try to hold your breath," he tells Steve as he pulls the device away.

Steve does his best to hold his breath for ten seconds, before breathing out and following Bucky as they work on calming down. By the end of it, his breathing has become less laboured and wheezy, and Tony finds himself relaxing too, just now realising how tense he’d gotten beforehand.

Steve is still shaking though, his hand clutching at Bucky’s as he tries to start speaking again. “Sor’y— I’m sorry—”

“It’s okay Steve,” Bucky says quietly, his expression bordering on sad as he puts away the inhaler and reaches for Steve, picking him up. Steve clings to him like a koala bear, still shaking slightly as Bucky holds him close. “It’s okay,” he says again. “We’re just going to go down to our room and rinse out your mouth and get you settled in case your sick again, okay?” he says. “You’ll be okay.”

Tony can see Steve’s hands tighten on Bucky’s sleeves and the boy squirms slightly in his grip, raising his head. “I gotta clean up–” 

Bucky shakes his head, his hands tightening just slightly on Steve. Across from Tony, Clint leaps up and reaches for the ruined plate, whisking it away to be rinsed off in the sink. Thankfully most of the vomit had landed on the plate, so there isn’t much else to clean up, and Bucky shoots Clint a grateful glance as he pets Steve’s hair, trying to get the boy to relax.

“The Avengers will help us,” he says soothingly, moving to turn back to the elevator. “It’s okay, no one’s mad at you.” In his arms, Steve ducks his head and buries it in Bucky’s shoulder, his hands still white against his shirt.

Tony watches them leave with familiar unease blooming in his stomach, and he turns back to the Avengers, watching as Clint wets a washcloth and goes over to begin wiping down where Steve had been sitting.

“Poor kid,” he comments once the elevator doors are closed. “Do you think he’s okay?”

Tony looks over as Bruce lets out a breath and pushes away his plate. “Hopefully it’s just a stomach bug,” he says, running a hand over his face. “Those usually clear up in a day or two, and he’ll be fine as long as we keep him hydrated.”

Across from him, Natasha shifts, swirling her own spaghetti on her fork over and over again with a thoughtful look on her face. She looks up. “Have you guys noticed that Steve’s…”

She trails off and Clint cuts in as he passes her on his way back to the sink. “Jumpy?”

Tony lets out a sigh of relief as they finally acknowledge the elephant in the room. “He keeps flinching,” he mutters as he reaches for his glass of water, his comment seeming to spark off an avalanche of other observations on their child-Captain.

“He kept looking like he expected me to yell at him during stretches–”

“He looked ready to fight Tony over the paper this afternoon–”

“I saw him at breakfast this morning and it was like he expected me to take his food–”

“You should have seen him when you dropped the juice, he looked ready to bolt–”

“He keeps apologizing–”

“He’s scared all the time–”

“He didn’t tell anyone he was sick–”

 _He tensed up when I drank_ , Tony thinks privately, not quite ready to say that one out loud.

Beside him, Bruce shifts a little uncomfortably and fiddles with his fork, looking down. “Do you think he was…” Like Natasha, he trails off, but judging from the looks on everyone’s faces, they all know what he means.

Tony clears his throat and pulls out his phone. “Bucky will know,” he says decisively, thinking back to some of the expressions the man has been wearing these past two days. “I’ll text him to come up once Steve’s asleep or something, and then we can ask him.”

The other Avengers nod quietly at that, and they finish a rather subdued supper before washing up and putting everything away. Bucky still isn’t back after that, so they are left to sit on the living room couches and entertain themselves, trying not to think too hard about what had happened a little while ago.

It’s almost two hours after the initial incident before Bucky comes up, his shoulders slumped and his expression visibly tired as he comes over to sit with them. At the sight of his drawn expression, Tony is abruptly reminded that this all probably hasn’t been easy on him either, and that Steve’s illness is probably especially stressful for him.

“How is he?” he asks quietly.

Bucky sighs and rubs a hand over his face. “He threw up a few more times,” he says. “But I think he’s settled now. I’ve got him set up in the bathroom just in case. We’ll have to see how he is tomorrow.”

Bruce leans forward to ask a few more questions and offer a few suggestions, but it’s clear that they are all just biding their time before one of them works up the courage to ask Bucky what they really want to know.

 _How do you even_ ask _about this?_ Tony wonders as he glances between Natasha and Clint. This is certainly not what he had been expecting to be doing a few days ago. Nobody seems to be willing to bring up the topic though and he sighs. It looks like it’s up to him to ignore social niceties and just go for it.

“Bucky,” he starts, once Bruce is finished with his discussion, his stomach churning as he prepares himself. “Is Steve—” He glances over the group and lowers his voice slightly. “Was Steve abused?”

A tension hangs in the air now that the question has been said out loud, and Bucky sighs, running a hand over his face before he leans forward to rest his elbows on his knees. “Yes,” he says quietly.

They all seem to let out a breath at once and Tony darts his eyes up to look at each of his teammates. Bruce’s face in particular is looking rather pale and strained, and he knows from bits and pieces here and there from working with the man that his own childhood hadn’t been pretty.

Natasha’s face has shuddered down into stone, and he knows that she too hadn’t had much of chance to be a kid. He flicks his eyes to Clint, and he’s pretty sure he can remember the man mentioning something offhandedly about running away from foster care once.

 _Did_ any _of us have a good childhood?_ he thinks, his lips pressing together. He had used to think that Steve had – outside of the poverty and illness of course – but it’s looking like that hadn’t been the case either.

Across from him, Clint shifts. “Who—? Was it—?”

Bucky sits up, breathing in. “It was his dad,” he says, sounding tired as he slumps back into the couch behind him, his hand waving. “Joe Rogers was… He came back from the war angry,” he says, his jaw clenching slightly. “And he came back with his lungs all messed up from gas.”

 _A gas casualty,_ Tony remembers as he watches an old anger flicker through Bucky’s eyes, the man shaking his head. “It made it harder for him to hold a job,” he continues, “And it made him bitter. He couldn’t even breathe right…” His mouth twists, and he glances up at them. “And then there was Steve.”

Tony winces. It’s not hard for him to see how Joe Rogers could have projected his anger out onto his son. A chronically ill child busy taking up money and resources that the father can’t provide because he can’t keep a job…

“He died when Steve was eight,” Bucky continues before shrugging. “I was about the same age as him, so I didn’t really realise the full extent of what was happening ‘till later, but…” His eyes grow a little distant and he swallows. “I knew his dad was hurtin’ him,” he says, “and I knew that sometimes Steve would stay home sick at my house instead of his, cuz it was safer.” 

Tony’s brain helpfully reminds him of what Steve’s face had looked like when he’d been busy trying to deny being sick, despite having thrown up literally seconds ago, and he swallows heavily. He had thought modern-day Steve’s aversion to med-bay had been some kind of macho-leader thing, but he’s guessing now that there is something deeper to it.

He breathes in, trying not to think too hard about the kind of man who would make his child afraid of being _sick_. He can’t help it though, and he swallows, looking over at Bucky. “Did his dad drink?” he asks roughly, even though he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

Bucky looks over at him and nods. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “Prohibition didn’t stop him much.”

Tony grimaces and looks away, remembering how he had brought up the temperance movement when Steve had been staring at him. He hadn’t meant anything by it, but Steve had probably taken it as a reprimand, or a ‘leave-me-alone-if-you-know-what’s-good-for you’.

“Steve used to say that the war killed his dad, just slower,” Bucky says ruefully, looking at his hands, something hard in his eyes. “Personally I think it could have worked a little harder on that front.”

Tony huffs out a breath in agreement and shakes his head. “Man, I wish we knew about this before,” he says, running a hand through his hair. “I would’ve been more careful.”

Bucky sighs and looks over at him, the bags under his eyes more apparent as he moves. “I know,” he says. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to tell you guys in front of Steve, and…” He shrugs, looking away again. “I had to decide if it was my place to tell you at all. I doubt Steve would’ve said anything if he didn’t have to.”

Tony winces. He has no doubt that Bucky is right. Steve is a private person in general, and if he hadn’t told the Avengers about his dad before now, then he probably wasn’t planning to. He seemed content for the world to believe that his dad had died in the war. Now though, thanks to circumstances beyond his control, the Avengers have learned the truth anyways.

Bucky sucks in a breath and crosses one leg over the other, his eyes glancing over each of the Avengers. “Now that you know,” he says, his foot tapping slightly. “I want to ask you guys to be careful how you talk about adult-Steve. Right now, Steve already thinks he isn’t good enough, and if he starts thinking we want to change him back just because his serum body is so much better…”

He trails off and Tony swallows uncomfortably. He hadn’t exactly thought about that. Sure, part of the reason they wanted to get _their_ Steve back is because present-day-Steve doesn’t have chronic health issues… but it’s also because they like _him_ , as a person. He’s guessing kid-Steve won’t see it that way.

Beside him, Bucky breathes in and sets his shoulders with a determinedness reminiscent of Steve. “For now, I’ve been trying to help him get comfortable with you guys,” he says. “I think if his child-self had somehow met you guys under more normal circumstances, then he wouldn’t be so scared.”

His mouth twitches and he shrugs, breathing in. “I’ve been tryin’ to bring him up here and let him get used to you guys,” he says, the fingers of his left hand tapping against his leg. “I think it’ll work, but he just needs time.”

Natasha leans forward, a glint of fire in her eyes as Bucky glances at her. “We can help with that,” she says determinedly, before glancing over the group. “We can try to spend time with Steve, and now that we know his history, we can be more careful.”

Tony nods along with the rest of the group, privately concluding that the next time he will be drinking in front of Steve is _never_ , and that judging from the kid’s reactions, they are also probably going to have to be careful with loud noises and yelling.

That’s fine, he can do that. He may not know how long mini-Steve will be staying with them, but they can at least try to help him feel safe while he’s here. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel really badly for Steve. And also really angry at Joe Rogers.
> 
> But now Tony and the Avengers know what’s up and can try to help. Poor Steve though, and Bucky trying to help him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which bonding occurs.

Tony has trouble sleeping that night. He doesn’t exactly dream of Howard, but he doesn’t exactly _not_ dream of him either, and he wakes up with bags under his eyes large enough to rival Bucky’s from last night.

It’s nothing that coffee won’t fix though, and he eventually drags himself out of bed and up to the common room to get his morning cup. Natasha raises an eyebrow at his zombie walk once he arrives, but Clint is over at the counter, looking just as bad as he sits in front of the toaster with his own mug, so Tony just rolls his eyes at her and turns on the coffee machine.

He’s just taking the first few sips of the heavenly liquid when the elevator dings open, and he looks up to see who it is. Bucky and Steve step out of the elevator, the man holding one of Steve’s new fuzzy blue blankets over one arm, and holding onto Steve’s hand with the other. Steve himself is looking pale, but alert as he clutches the bear Tony had gotten him to his chest, the child leaning into Bucky slightly as he flicks his eyes over them warily.

Tony actually freezes at the adorable sight, his throat closing up at the sheer levels of cuteness Steve manages to exude despite being sick and inherently suspicious of all of them.

He takes the presence of the bear as a positive sign though, since it means the kid is willing to show some attachment to something in their presence — even if he does clutch at it rather tightly, like he expects someone to come swooping down and take it away.

Across from him at the counter, Clint brightens at Steve’s entrance, and he looks over, offering the kid a gentle smile. “How’re you feeling, Steve?” he asks.

Steve swallows and casts a quick glance at Bucky before looking back at Clint, his arm managing to tighten further around his bear. “I’m feeling a little better,” he says quietly.

Clint smiles again at that, and Tony sips his coffee, watching as Bucky leads Steve over to come sit at the counter. Steve seems to be trying to make himself small as he perches on his stool, his bear clutched carefully in his arms as Bucky sets down the blanket at the edge of the counter where it won't get dirty and moves to prepare something for breakfast.

Tony hadn’t been around for yesterday’s breakfast, but he imagines that today’s is rather different. Bucky makes himself a bowl of oatmeal (adding in some powdered supplements to off-set his metabolism) but ends up only giving Steve a cup with a small bit of water, and another one with a sip of apple juice.

“See if you can keep this down for now,” he tells him as he sets another couple pills next to the cups. Steve nods tiredly, his face pressing into the back of his bear’s head, before he moves to carefully set it aside, his shoulders hunched as he reaches first for the pills and then for some of the water.

Tony doesn’t realise that he’d been waiting for him to suddenly throw up again until he doesn’t, and he lets out a quiet breath of relief as he turns back to his coffee, not wanting to make the kid nervous by staring.

Now that he knows more about Steve’s history and his father, he can’t help feeling slightly awkward around him. Not only does Steve remind him uncomfortably of himself, but he also very much does not want to scare the kid any more than he already has.

He doesn’t know how to make Steve more comfortable though, and the tension in the kid’s shoulders makes it painfully obvious that he is still unsure how the adults around him will react to his sickness.

Thankfully, Clint and Natasha seem to have a plan.

“Hey Clint,” Natasha calls, snapping Clint out of his haze as he waits for some toast to pop. “Didn’t you say you wanted to watch a movie today?”

Clint perks up, and Tony sees Steve glance at them out of the corner of his eye, his hands pausing around his cup. He sees Natasha’s mouth curl up just slightly, and he knows that she has seen Steve’s interest too.

“Oh yeah,” Clint says, rubbing at his eyes. “The one Lila was talking about.” He turns to Steve and leans his chin on his hand, beginning to explain that his daughter had wanted to watch a movie, but Clint had wanted to check to see if it was good or not. “I think a kid would probably be better at deciding though,” he tells him. “Do ya think you could watch it with me and help me out?”

Tony is almost 100% certain that the whole situation is completely fabricated, but Steve’s eyes light up at the request and his shoulders loosen slightly as he looks at Clint. “Bucky says you can go to the movies in your own house now,” Steve tells him earnestly, his feet swinging slightly on his stool. “Cuz of TeeVees.”

Tony has to duck behind his coffee mug as Steve sounds out the foreign word, and Clint doesn’t try to hide his smile as he looks down at him. “Great,” he says, turning –and ignoring Steve’s twitch – as his toast pops. “We should watch it after breakfast. It’s called _Inside Out._ ”

Tony finishes breakfast (and washes his hands _very_ thoroughly. He might not be upset at Steve for being sick – because he’s not a _monster_ – but that doesn’t mean that _he_ wants to get sick too), and he watches as Bucky gets Steve situated on the couch, tucking the blanket around him and the bear, and putting a cup of water on the coffee table for him to sip at occasionally.

Clint seems just as, if not more, excited for the movie as Steve, and he chats easily as they set it up, Natasha and Bucky sitting down on the couch too as they wait for the movie to start.

Tony stands torn in the kitchen. He knows that Bucky had wanted them to help Steve relax, and he knows that he could probably go participate and watch the movie with the rest of them… but Steve seems to be more tense around him than the others, and he doesn’t want to scare the kid.

Right now, Steve needs a good experience with the others, and Tony doesn’t want him to have to be more stressed than necessary. There will be other opportunities for him to reach out to Steve, but for now, he should probably just leave them.

He has things to work on anyways.

That is what he tries to convince himself of when he ends up back in his lab, running a few more simulations on the cuffs and wondering idly if he should just make multiple versions of the things. It’ll be less likely to fail if he covers all his bases, right?

He also, for completely unrelated reasons, spends a good chunk of time researching the stomach flu in children.

oOo

He heads back up to the common room for lunch. Well, lunch-ish. It’s past two by the time he makes it up, but he has several new cuffs in the works and a solid grasp on the stomach flu (which is actually gastroenteritis and caused by bacteria), so he counts his time as well spent.

Steve is still in the common room when he arrives, but he isn’t watching movies anymore. Instead he seems to be doing the puzzle Tony had gotten him, his blanket tucked up around his shoulders as Bruce sits across from him at the coffee table.

Tony glances over them as he waits for some of last night’s leftovers to warm up in the microwave, and he can’t help thinking that Steve seems to be enjoying himself, even if he is still rather quiet. Bucky is still keeping an eye on him, but he sits on the couch, a few feet away, a book in his lap – probably the furthest from Steve he has been this whole time, besides when he had come up to talk to them last night.

His spaghetti is ready, and Tony eats it absentmindedly, his eyes mostly focused on the group by the coffee table. Despite being sick, Steve seems to have settled a little bit, seeming to take their more or less positive response to the incident as a good sign.

Just thinking about last night causes Tony’s fingers to tighten around his fork and he can’t help the surge of anger he feels at the idea of Joe Rogers making his son afraid to be _sick_ , it definitely pushes the man into ‘scum of the Earth’ territory. And the worry about _wasting_ things digs at him too. He can still remember the look on Steve’s face when he had tried to apologize for wasting food after throwing up, as if that was his _fault_ somehow.

As if that is a reasonable thing to get mad at, after a child throws up. 

Of course, he imagines that throwing up food is a bigger deal if his family couldn’t afford to buy more… and it bothers him how easily he can imagine Joe Rogers getting angry at his son for things out of his control. It isn’t Steve’s _fault_ that he gets sick, and it isn’t his fault that his family is poor, and obviously Joe had been more likely to drink than to try to _fix_ any of that, so if anything, _he_ is the one to blame. 

He sucks in a breath and uses his fork to pick up the last few bits of his spaghetti, trying to cool his anger. Joe Rogers is long dead, and being mad at him won’t do much except probably make Steve nervous, so he tries to let it go for now.

Letting out a determined breath, and moving to place his dishes in the sink, Tony prepares to head back down to the labs, his mind fixed firmly on his new cuffs and the simulations he wants to run. If he can make sure the cuffs are ready by the time SHIELD finds whoever had put the spell on Steve, then they can be sure to actually _catch_ the person, and then figure out how to make them fix everything—

His train of thought gets cut off a few feet from the elevator, Bruce calling out to him from the coffee table. “Hey Tony,” he says, his tone light and easy. “Did you want to help us with this puzzle?”

Tony blinks and turns back to the group, his eyes skating over Steve, who seems to be clutching his blanket a little tighter and watching him with big eyes. He doesn’t exactly look afraid, but his hands are motionless over the puzzle now, seemingly frozen as he waits to see what Tony will do.

He can remember that. He can remember the stillness that comes from listening, and waiting, and watching with every fiber of his body – waiting to see what Howard would do, waiting to see how he would react, waiting to see if he would notice—

He blinks and shoves the thought of Howard from his mind. Howard isn’t _here,_ and Steve is still waiting to see what he will do.

He isn’t exactly sure what the best is option here. He knows that they want to help Steve get used to them, but he doesn’t want to stress the kid out unnecessarily. But… Bruce _had_ invited him, and he doesn’t want Steve to get the idea that he doesn’t want to hang out with him. That perception will be even _harder_ to repair than simple caution, and since he hadn’t joined in for movies this morning, it would probably be a good idea to try to do something now.

“Sure,” he decides finally, swinging his arms a little as he walks over. His cuffs and simulations can wait, for now he can go sit down and try to keep Steve from stressing too much as he bonds with him.

Steve eyes him as he walks over, but he doesn’t look upset or afraid, which Tony is counting as a win, and he offers the boy a small smile as he settles down between him and Bruce, his eyes glancing over the puzzle in front of him and up to the box showing the picture they are supposed to be building.

Bucky must have brought it down at some point after breakfast and movies, and Tony notices that he had also brought down the two sets of lego he had gotten, the boxes nestled by the couch, not yet opened.

Steve shifts, and Tony looks back over at him, noting an empty cup of jello and exactly two crackers at his elbow. The sight of the small amount of food is a bit of a relief, since he imagines it means that Steve has been able to keep stuff down, and he can’t help smiling again at the boy as he turns to look at the puzzle.

“Looks like you guys are doing good so far,” he says, his eyes glancing over the spotty picture of a dog and cat sleeping in a basket together. Most of the edge pieces are finished at this point and a good portion of the cat pieced together.

His words seem to be a signal to start working again, and for a while they sit mostly in silence, muttering only a few quiet words to each other as they work on fitting all the pieces together. The puzzle isn’t exactly hard (Steve is six after all) but it does present enough of a challenge to keep them entertained for a while.

“Hmm,” Tony hums as he works on finishing the basket, the remaining pieces seemingly refusing to go together. “Com’on, one of these pieces has to fit.”

Out of the corner of his eye, a small hand edges towards him, and he looks up to see Steve sliding a puzzle piece in his direction, the boy’s eyes wide and silent as he pulls his hand back.

Tony blinks and reaches for the piece, picking it up and slotting it into the troublesome spot. He grins and looks up at Steve, catching his eye. “Hey, good job,” he says, and in front of him, Steve flushes, his face ducking away as he smiles at the praise.

The sight is extremely adorable, but also heartbreaking in a way, and Tony resolves to find some more ways at complimenting the kid. Heaven knows he deserves it.

With the three of them working, it doesn’t take long to finish the puzzle, and once it’s done, Bruce sits back with a sigh, stretching out his back. “That was fun,” he says, looking over at Steve. “How are you feeling?”

Steve reaches over to nibble at one of his crackers and flicks his eyes over the group. “I don’t really feel sick anymore,” he tells Bruce, and Tony isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth or just trying to convince them that he isn’t sick anymore. 

Bruce probably has a similar thought, but he doesn’t question Steve, instead offering him a smile and moving to stand up. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he tells him, rubbing at his knees a little as he stands. “I’ll get you something to drink, and if you can keep that down, then maybe you can eat something light for supper.”

Steve nods, and Tony catches Bucky scanning the boy from the couch, probably trying to figure out just how ‘recovered’ he is. In the end, it probably doesn’t matter much if Steve is lying. According to Tony’s research, stomach bugs usually clear up within the first 24 to 48 hours, so as long as they are careful for the next little while, he should be fine regardless.

Bruce heads off to the kitchen and comes back with a plastic cup of Gatorade for Steve. The boy’s nose twitches slightly at it, like he wants to wrinkle his nose at the taste, but he casts a quick glance at Tony before quietly accepting the drink.

Tony resists the urge to sigh and Bruce offers him a sort of half-smile before he rubs his hands on his pants and makes his goodbyes, claiming to have a phone call soon about one of his papers. Tony watches him go and casts his eyes around for something else for him and Steve to do, not quite wanting to leave immediately after Bruce.

His gaze lands on the lego sets, and he smiles. “Hey, have you tried these?” he asks, scooching over to grab one of the boxes.

He hadn’t bothered to check when lego had been invented, but he isn’t surprised when Steve shakes his head, a spark of interest flaring through his eyes. Tony smiles and grabs both boxes before scooting back to the coffee table. “This is fun,” he tells him, setting the boxes on the floor and leaning his elbow on the table. “Do you want to put away the puzzle and try?”

Steve nods and moves to grab the puzzle box, carefully beginning to sweep the pieces of the puzzle off the table and into the carboard container. Most of the puzzle stays together, although Steve does seem to try to break them up a bit, and soon the table is clear for Tony to bring up the lego sets.

They are pretty simple sets, since Steve is pretty young, but he had gotten him a red firetruck one, and a blue spaceship one. “Which one do you want to do first?” he asks, presenting the two boxes. Steve scrutinizes the two for a moment, before he reaches for the spaceship one.

His eyes dart up to Tony for a moment and he raises his chin slightly. “I can see the colours for this one,” he announces, his eyes on Tony as if waiting to see how he will react.

Tony very carefully does not think about how a six-year-old is testing the waters around him, and he smiles. “That’s good,” he says, putting down the firetruck box and scooting a little closer. “What colours can you see?”

Steve’s shoulders seem to relax somewhat, and his eyes dart over to Bucky on the couch, before he looks back to Tony. “Bucky tells me about all the colours,” he says. “But I can see the blue an’ yellow ones the best.”

Tony nods along with that and moves to open the box, pulling out the instructions and shaking out the baggies of pieces. “I’m guessing that’s why blue is your favourite colour then,” he says, and Steve reaches up to tug at the blanket around his shoulders.

“Yeah,” he says, before dropping his eyes down to stare curiously at the pieces in front of him. “How does this work?”

Tony spends the next little while explaining the basics of lego, and he helps Steve open the first few baggies. “So, we’ll need this flat piece, ya see?” he says, pointing at the first step in the instruction manual.

Steve nods determinedly and begins to sort through the pile, something completely endearing at the careful concentration he has while he follows the instructions. Tony mostly sits back and lets him do it himself, stepping in here and there to help find pieces or better explain the instructions. Steve seems to loosen up as time goes by, and he seems to enjoy the process, getting excited as the project grows and begins to link up with itself.

It’s almost finished when he gets stuck. “I can’t get these two pieces,” he says, after a few minutes of struggling with two of the larger sections. His brow wrinkles and he huffs slightly, leaning back to push the offending pieces towards Tony.

Tony chuckles lightly and reaches for them. “It _is_ a little tricky,” he agrees, sliding the wing of the spaceship closer to the body of the ship and angling his fingers to help push them together. Steve grins at the successful click, and he leans forward eagerly, his fingers brushing briefly against Tony’s as he takes it back.

“It’s almost done!” He announces happily, his eyes bright as they dart over the remaining pieces. For his part, Tony remains mostly speechless, unable to keep from staring at this first glimpse of a fully relaxed Steve, the kid too engaged with his toy to overthink his behaviour in front of the adults around him.

Tony glances to the couch, and he finds Bucky looking at Steve too, a smile on his face as he watches his friend enjoying himself. Their eyes meet for a second and Tony flashes him a proud grin, before he drops his gaze back down to Steve, the kid muttering quietly to himself as he works on attaching the last of the fins to the spaceship.

“Look!” His voice is full of pride as he presents the ship to Tony for a brief second, before spinning around to wave it in Bucky’s direction. “Bucky, look what I made.”

Bucky smiles warmly at him and leans forward to better appreciate the creation. “Lookin’ good, kiddo,” he says.

Steve grins happily at that, and Tony leans his chin on his hand as he watches him. He’s glad that Steve seems to be having a good time. He doubts that the kid feels completely at home yet, but it is a good sign that he’s willing to enjoy himself, comfortable enough to show emotion and attachment to something around someone other than Bucky.

He smiles and leans forward, reaching for the other box of lego. “Did you want to try this one next?”

Lego with Steve goes over much better than he had been anticipating. Steve still seems to mostly keep him at an arm’s length, but he is excited about the toys, and he remains relatively open with Tony as they work on completing the firetruck lego set.

“Look, it rolls!” Steve gasps, thoroughly impressed as he runs the finished truck along the edge of the table.

Tony’s eyes brighten, and he finds himself reaching for the spaceship, swooping it up and down around Steve’s truck. “Where should we fly off to?” he asks, forgetting for the moment, that Bucky is watching him from the couch.

It has been a long time since he had last played with lego. Most of his sets had been replaced with circuit boards and electronic parts once he had shown an affinity for them, so he hadn’t had much time to play with lego, or build model kits or other things that most boys did at his age.

Hmm, wooden models. Those had always looked entertaining. Steve might be too young for most of them, but he’s certain that there might be some simpler ones he could look into… if the kid sticks around for long.

For now though, he has to focus, because apparently he and Steve need to pick up a load of water (conveniently provided by Steve’s blanket), and go put out a fire (the blaze personified by a pile of cardboard boxes and leftover packaging). Steve’s truck races around the pile, spurting water from all directions, while Tony thoroughly douses the flames from space. 

Eventually the pile turns into Mr. Bear’s house, and they have to rebuild it for him, using the table as a large roof for the bear to sit under. “You don’t gotta pay rent either,” Steve informs the stuffed animal as he sets up the boxes to form walls. “Bucky says we don’t gotta in the Tower.”

Tony’s breath stutters just slightly and he glances up to see Bucky’s eyes on them again, an unreadable expression on his face. Tony can’t even imagine why the two of them would have talked about rent at all – unless Steve had been busy being worried about bills again – and he glances down, the kid continuing to chat amiably with the bear as if he hadn’t said anything out of the ordinary at all.

He supposes it really isn’t strange for him, if money is continually tight at home… but to Tony it feels wrong. Despite the mess his childhood had been, he had at least never had to worry about where rent money, or grocery money, or _doctor_ money was going to come from, and… he doesn’t think kids like Steve should have to worry about that sort of thing.

He thinks… he’s going to have to take a look again at the organisations his company is currently donating to. He’s pretty sure he already has something in place for child poverty… but he is also certain that more can be done.

His thoughts are pulled away from the heavy topic as he moves to continue playing with Steve, but it isn’t long before the kid begins to tire himself out, reminding Tony that he is still technically sick, and could probably use some rest.

Bucky notices too, as Steve begins to slow down and play more quietly, and he sets his book aside, moving to crouch down next to the boy. “I think we should start cleaning up,” he says, glancing over the packaging remains. “And then you should drink something, and maybe take a nap.”

Steve pouts slightly but doesn’t protest, instead helping to collect the garbage and moving to drink the last of his Gatorade and eat his cracker as Bucky stands up to throw everything out. For his part, Tony stands up and stretches, his back reminding him that he is _not_ a six-year-old, and that playing around on the floor is harder than it used to be.

Steve watches him over the rim of his cup, but he looks less inherently suspicious than he did before, and Tony offers him a parting smile, waving his fingers a little at him. “See you at supper, kiddo.”

Steve’s mouth flicks up at him, and he nods shyly behind his cup.

oOo

It’s Natasha’s night for making something, which means they usually get some kind of Russian dish to try. Tonight though, she seems to be catering to Steve’s stomach, because Tony comes upstairs to mashed potatoes, carrot salad and corn off the cob.

Steve is allowed to eat some of it, because he has successfully gone without throwing up for most of the day, but Bucky does give him smaller portions than before. “If you can keep this down, then you’ll probably be okay by tomorrow,” he tells him.

Steve doesn’t seem bothered by the smaller portions – although, if he gets sick like this often, then Tony imagines that the ritual is familiar to him by now. One nice thing about supper today though, is Steve seems to be more relaxed than before.

His movements are still careful and controlled (probably in an effort to avoid making a mess in front of them), but when Clint asks him how his day had gone, Steve actually gives him an excited reply. “Tony showed me how to play with lego today,” he announces, his legs swinging slightly as he leans towards Clint. “We made a firetruck _and’_ a spaceship. And Bucky told me you can build spaceships in real life now.”

Clint grins at Steve’s enthusiastic response, and he leans his elbow on the table, asking him basic questions about his lego creations as Steve continues to slowly make his way through the rest of his dinner.

“You know you can use the pieces to build whatever you want, right?” Clint asks him after a while. “Maybe tomorrow we can make like, a firefighting spaceship.”

Steve’s eyes light up at the idea and Tony stifles a grin behind his glass. He has to admit that he feels a little proud at how well the toys he had gotten for Steve have been going over. The idea of playing with lego tomorrow does make him think though. How long is Steve going to be sticking around? It's been about three days now, and Tony isn’t exactly sure if he is prepared to start thinking long-term.

They are going to get their Steve back soon, right? Taking care of Steve is all well and good, but he can’t stay like this forever.

Of course, they can’t really do anything until SHIELD finds whoever did this to him so—

His train of thought gets cut off as a crack of thunder rumbles through the Tower and the lights in the room flicker, the windows rattling slightly in their frames. The noise is familiar enough to most of the Tower residents, but Steve tenses immediately, his shoulders hunching slightly as he reaches instinctively for Bucky, his eyes darting around at the unexpected sound.

Tony's stomach clenches at the look of uncertainty on his face, and Bucky reaches over to pat his hand. “It’s okay Steve,” he tells him, Steve’s shoulders beginning to relax at his calm response. “Do you remember Thor from a few days ago? He went to go look for some help, and he’s just coming back.”

Tony isn’t exactly sure how much of the ‘Thor is an alien from another planet’ thing Bucky has explained to Steve, but Steve seems to accept his explanation either way, and Tony gets up, reaching down to clear his plate as he glances up towards the ceiling.

“J, tell Thor that I’m coming up to meet him,” he says, stepping around the counter to place his dishes in the sink. JARVIS gives him a confirmation and Tony gives the other Avengers a mock salute as he heads towards the elevators.

They could probably all wait for Thor to come down to them, but he kind of wants to run interference first. Thor doesn’t know anything about Steve’s history, and depending on the outcome of his trip, the man could very well be in a bad mood, which wouldn’t bode well for gaining the kid’s trust.

It doesn’t take long for him to reach the roof, and he finds Thor standing a few feet away from the, by now, familiar burn pattern on the ground. Tony doesn’t even bother trying to fix it anymore. There is no point.

Thor doesn’t look angry, but he does look tired, and Tony offers him a wave as he steps over. “Hey, Point Break,” he says, glancing over Thor and his Asgard regalia. “How’d it go?”

Thor lets out a long-suffering sigh and Tony’s mouth presses into a thin line. “I have told you before that my father is reluctant to engage with mortals, yes?” Thor starts, and Tony nods.

Thor’s expression clearly states how he feels about that particular policy, and he folds his arms pointedly as he continues. “Mortal ‘magic’, as you call it, is respected even less than regular seidr on Asgard,” he says. “My father refused to help me.”

Tony huffs out an irritated breath. He hadn’t been holding out too much on the Asgard card, since even Thor hadn’t even seemed that hopeful, but it _is_ a little demeaning to be shoved to the side so easily.

In front of him, Thor rolls his shoulders and drops his arms, his expression clearing slightly. “I do come with some good news though,” he says. “While my father refused to help us reverse what has been done to Steve, he did _not_ happen to order Heimdall from telling me the identity of his assailant.”

Tony's mouth drops open, and Thor grins at him, thoroughly pleased with his discovery. “I imagine SHIELD will have a much easier time with a name, don’t you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think probably Tony would feel a little awkward and nervous around Steve now that he knows about his dad, but he was eventually able to connect with him anyways. The other Avengers were able to step in too, and Steve seems to be responding well.
> 
> Of course, it would be impossible to completely deal with all of his issues – especially since Thor is here now – but he can at least feel a bit more comfortable with them now.  
> Final chapter Saturday!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the Avengers hunt down a mage.

Tony lets Thor in on a little bit of Steve’s issues as they head back down to the common room. “Just… try not to be too loud and boisterous around him,” he says, as they wait in the elevator. “Steve… doesn’t really like loud adults.”

He doesn’t tell Thor exactly why, because he isn’t really sure if it is his place to do so, but Thor seems to pick up on the implications, his face darkening for a second before he breathes in and lets it clear, giving his head a shake. “How has his stay been so far?” he asks, and Tony huffs out a breath.

“Well, he got sick on the second day,” he replies ruefully, running a hand through his hair. “But he’s doing better now, and he seems to be trusting us a bit more.”

Thor nods quietly at that, something distant in his eyes as he thinks. “Hopefully we will soon be able to correct this,” he says after a moment, and Tony nods.

Hopefully with Thor’s information, they will be able to bring their Steve back… but he knows that even if they do, he will never be able to forget the mental image of six-year-old Steve, and the kinds of things he had had to live through.

The elevator soon discharges them out into the common room, and Thor greets all of the Avengers as he steps out – although Tony can’t help noting that he is a little bit quieter than usual, and he is sure to leave over an arms-width of space between him and Steve as he approaches the table.

For his part, Steve watches Thor with the same quiet, tense look as he’d had before, his eyes flicking over him as he takes him in, and gages his interactions with the Avengers. Thor himself offers Steve a warm smile and greeting, and Steve takes a moment to offer him a shy wave back.

“Did you find the help you wanted?” he asks softly, his eyes darting over Thor, and then the rest of the group, as though checking his question isn’t out of line.

Thor’s face softens. “I did find something, little one,” he says gently. “I believe we will soon have a solution.”

They wait until after Steve goes to bed to discuss Thor’s discovery with the rest of the team, and by then, Clint looks about ready to explode with impatience.

“Okay!” he bursts out as Bucky steps out from the elevator, their resident six-year-old now asleep and taken care of. “What did you find? Do you think you can turn Steve back?”

On the couch across from him, Thor shakes his head. “I cannot,” he says. “But I now know the identity of the mage who did this to him. Finding her should be the first step in regaining our captain.

“Who is it?” Natasha asks. “Have we met her before?”

Thor shakes his head again and crosses his leg over the other. “As far as I know, she has yet to make trouble for herself on SHIELD’s level,” he says. “Her name is Emily Sallow, and Heimdall tells me she lives within this country.”

Tony lets out a breath and pulls out his phone, glad to finally be getting somewhere. “She is about to discover that she has made _plenty_ of trouble for herself,” he mumbles as he pulls up Fury’s contact. “Did Heimdall have any other clues?”

Thor frowns for a second and tilts his head. “Mortal ages are difficult,” he says after a moment. “But Heimdall believed her to be young, although beyond the age of maturity.”

“That’s good enough for me,” Tony replies back, lifting the phone to his ear. “Let’s hope that ‘Sallow’ isn’t that common of a last name.”

oOo

As it turns out, Sallow is _not_ very common, and SHIELD has an address for them by the next day. Emily Sallow turns out to be a 25-year-old woman living in southern Florida, working as a salesclerk by day and apparently engaging with the occult by night.

“Alright,” Tony starts as he steps into his suit and lets it wrap around him. “So, I have, hopefully, magic-reducing cuffs for each of us. I doubt very much that Emily is expecting us, so if we catch her by surprise, we should be able to capture her without her teleporting away.”

It feels a little strange to be the one to outline the plan, since Steve is usually the one to do that, but currently Steve is with Bucky meeting the bots in the lab, and is in no place to lead, so somehow Tony is the one doing it.

“What do you mean ‘hopefully’?” Bruce asks, eyeing the cuffs in his hands and squinting a little at the electronic locking mechanism.

Tony sighs and checks that his cuffs are safely stored in the arm compartment of his suit. “Well, they haven’t actually been used on a _real person_ ,” he admits a bit grumpily. “They work in the simulations, but I only had JARVIS’ scans to work from.”

“It’s better than nothing,” Clint shrugs, checking his bow over. “And if all else fails, we can always knock her out.”

 _True that,_ Tony thinks mildly as he and the others make their way out to the waiting quinjet. He’d rather _not_ have to knock out the woman, because that can get messy, but he will if it means they can get Steve back.

oOo

“I wonder what they did with the bank money they stole,” Natasha muses a few hours later, her eyes on the computer display that shows Sallow’s small apartment building. “Doesn’t exactly look like she’s spent it on herself.”

“Probably can’t, without raising suspicion,” Clint replies, hefting his arrows onto his back. “My guess is they put it into some off-shore bank account. She’ll reap the rewards once the frenzy of the heist dies down.” His eyes shift and he smiles. “Well… she _would,_ if we weren’t about to crash the party.”

Tony smiles and looks down at the computer. “Is she home?”

Natasha nods. “Computer is picking up a life sign. Seems to match her.”

Tony lets out a breath, glad that they don’t have to wait to confront her. “JARVIS, scan the building for any traces of the magic signatures we saw before,” he orders, the inside of his helm lighting up. “See if she’s set anything in place that we can see.”

JARVIS is silent for a moment, before Tony’s helm flickers green. “ _Scans negative, Sir,_ ” he replies, and Tony nods.

“Doesn’t look like there are any booby traps,” he tells the rest of the team. “But don’t let down your guard.”

The others nod at him and get ready to exit the quinjet. Bruce stays behind, waiting in the plane just in case Sallow manages to get away without teleporting, and he needs to pursue her. The rest of them drop out a few buildings away, so as not to give her any forewarning, and begin to make their way over to her apartment complex.

Tony flies ahead, scanning the building and zeroing in on Sallow’s apartment. “There’s a balcony,” he tells the others over the comms. “Second floor. Clint, do you think you could sneak in and cover the front door? Nat, infiltrate via the balcony and see if you can tell us where in the apartment she is. Thor and I will wait out here until we know more.”

He gets various affirmative responses from the others, and he hovers above the balcony with Thor, waiting as Clint slips inside the front of the building, and Natasha carefully eases herself up onto the balcony, slipping past some kind of small tree and peering through the sliding door.

 _“The room in front of me looks clear,”_ she reports. “ _I’m going to head in.”_

Tony holds his breath and watches as Natasha jimmies the lock, her movements deathly silent as she slides the door open a little ways. She slips inside, and the line is silent for a few minutes – save for Clint confirming his position outside the front door – and they wait as Natasha scouts out the inside.

 _“She’s not in the living room,”_ she reports quietly. _“Kitchen is clear.”_ There is silence for a few more seconds before the line crackles again. _“There’s a bedroom just off the living room, I can hear her inside.”_

Tony breathes out. “Alright,” he says. “Clint, knock on the door or something, and see if she’ll come out. Nat, are you hidden? Do you think you can cuff her?”

There is a beat of silence as Natasha moves to a strategic location, before she responds. _“We’d have better coverage if you came into the kitchen,”_ she says. _“Can you do it quietly?”_

Tony presses his lips together and slowly lowers his suit so that he’s hovering outside the balcony door. “Quietly enough,” he replies, eyeing the doorway in front of him. Natasha had left the door open, so if he’s careful, he should be able to fit inside.

It takes some careful maneuvering, but he manages to edge in sideways, his ears primed for every inadvertent sound he makes. Once inside, he can see the bedroom that Natasha had been talking about, the room on the other side of a cramped living room, the space filled with far more plants than are strictly necessary.

Natasha stands against the wall beside the bedroom, a large fern sitting next to her and casting green shadows on her face as she watches him. Tony steps forward quietly and turns his head to look on the other side of him, towards the kitchen.

The apartment has an open floorplan, so once he steps around the counter and crouches down, he can still see Natasha and the bedroom doorway, and he gives her a quiet nod as he gets into position.

Natasha places her hand to her ear and looks towards the doorway. _“Ready Clint,”_ she breathes, and Tony ducks his head so that it is no longer visible above the countertop.

A loud banging sounds throughout the room, and Tony turns his head. He can’t see the front door from here, but he does hear an exasperated sigh come from the bedroom next to Natasha.

“ _Honestly_ ,” a voice sounds from the room, the door squeaking slightly as it swings open.

Tony peeks his head up just slightly over the countertop, and he watches as a woman dressed in a loose and flowy shirt and pants steps irritably out of the room. She doesn’t even notice Natasha as she passes, muttering darkly under her breath as she steps through the living room and heads towards the front door.

“Is it too much to ask for an _hour_ to meditate?” he hears her grumble to herself, completely unaware of Natasha’s slow stalking of her. “I know some neighbours are nosy but—”

She doesn’t finish her thought because Natasha pounces, her cuffs out as she leaps forwards and expertly trips the woman. Sallow goes down with a scream of surprise and she flails around wildly as Natasha wrestles her to the ground.

A crackling green energy forms around one of her hands, and Tony leaps up, his hand repulsors charge and ready as he reveals himself. “Don’t even think about it,” he growls, and the woman freezes, her eyes widening as she stares at him.

The moment of shock is all Natasha needs and the cuffs are on and activated less than a second later, Sallow letting out a shout of surprise as they click shut and she jerks. “What are you doing?” she spits, struggling against the cuffs. “You can’t just—”

“Look,” Tony says, stepping forward. “We know you helped rob a bank last week. Don’t try to deny it, we just saw you try to use magic.” He takes another step forward. “Turns out a heist like that puts you on SHIELD’s bad side, so now you’re under arrest.”

The woman gapes at him for a moment before her eyes flare and she raises her chin, breathing in. “Well, maybe you forgot an important part of last week,” she tells him, her voice hard as she shakes her hair away from her face. “There was a _reason_ you didn’t catch me.”

She grins at him and then tenses, her hands flexing sharply— and then… nothing. Shock drops onto her face and she stares down at her hands, flexing them again and tugging slightly at the cuffs, her face a picture of confusion.

“ _Right,_ ” Tony drawls, shifting his stance, his repulsor flaring slightly. “I actually didn’t forget. You won’t be teleporting away anytime soon, so I suggest you come with us quietly.”

Sallow glances over him, and then darts her eyes over Natasha, her face suddenly pale as she nods very slowly.

oOo

Tony is more relieved than he’ll let on at the success of their mission. A lot could have gone sideways if they hadn’t been able to get the jump on Sallow, or if his cuffs hadn’t worked and she had managed to get away, and they can’t really afford that sort of thing if they are ever going to get Steve back.

Thankfully, they had managed it, and they can now bring Sallow into SHIELD custody.

He sends a quick message off to Bucky to alert him of their success, but for the most part, he focuses on the next stage of the operation, getting Sallow to agree to fix Steve. Clint and Natasha have the honours of interrogating her.

The two sit across from her in a SHIELD interrogation room, a metal table dividing them as Sallow sits with her cuffed hands out in front of her. Tony can’t help the vindication he feels as he watches her through the one-way mirror, the other Avengers clustered around him as they wait for the interrogation to begin.

“If you want the names of the other people, I don’t know them,” Sallow starts off defiantly. “We all go by codenames.”

“Uh huh,” Clint leans on his hand and looks towards her. “I’m sure your magic club was super fun. We’re here for a different reason.”

Confusion flickers over Sallow’s face, and Natasha leans forward, sliding a thin beige folder closer to herself and flipping it open. “Do you know who this is?” she asks as she pulls out a photograph of Steve from before he had gotten shrunk.

Sallow flicks her eyes over Natasha and down to the picture. “Everyone knows who that is,” she says, her fingers flexing uncertainly in her cuffs. “That’s Captain America.”

Natasha nods silently and slides the picture out of the way, pulling out another one, this time a photo of Steve at his current age, courtesy of JARVIS. “This is also Steve Rogers,” she says, sliding the picture closer for Sallow to see. “He got hit with one of your blasts a few days ago, and is currently the age of a kindergartener.”

Sallow’s mouth drops open as she stares at the picture, her eyes darting up to Natasha. “What— but, it— it wasn't supposed to _do_ that,” she gasps out, and Tony raises an eyebrow. He hadn’t considered before that the spell placed on Steve could have been unintentional, and that Sallow had no idea what had happened to him.

“What _were_ you trying to do?” Clint cuts in, pulling Sallow’s gaze to him.

“Well, I— I was aiming for the _building_ ,” she starts off. “We were trying to get in, so I was breaking down the walls. It–” she waves a hand, her movements limited by the cuffs. “It wasn’t meant for _people_ , I was just trying to revert the concrete back to it’s previous form.”

Natasha and Clint both raise their eyebrows at her, and Sallow glances between them. “Well it’s a lot easier to break things down that way,” she insists. “To explode something, you have to convince it to combust, but this way you’re just bringing it back to something it was _before_. It’s a lot easier.”

 _The rules of magic,_ Tony thinks suddenly. Energies, playing with other energies. Some methods are easier and simpler than others.

“Well, you hit a person this time,” Clint says sharply, Sallow’s eyes darting to him as he leans forward. “And he got brought back to _before_ as well.”

“Can you reverse it?” Natasha cuts in, Sallow’s gaze ping-ponging between the two agents. “Can you undo what you did?”

Sallow swallows and chews on her lip, leaning back slightly as she taps a finger against the table. “…Probably,” she says after a moment, her eyes flickering between Clint and Natasha. “It’d be pretty simple I think. It’d just be the time spell backwards.” She sits up. “And it’d be easier because he's already _been_ an adult. It’d just be guiding him _back_ —”

“Good,” Clint says, leaning back. “That’s what we’ll do then.”

Sallow pauses and glances between them, her shoulders drawing back slightly. “That’s it?” she says, her voice turning a bit indignant. “I’m just going to do the spell for you? What’s in it for me?”

In front of her, Natasha collects the pictures and flips her folder closed with a decisive flick of her wrist. “How about not going to jail?” she says pointedly.

Sallow deflates slightly and flexes her fingers in her cuffs. Behind the glass, Tony grins.

oOo

They have her test it first, because there is no way they are letting her get at Steve before they know for sure that she can do what they want.

In a room, under heavy guard, Sallow is allowed to perform the time spell both ways, first on concrete slabs and other inanimate objects, and then on living things, like a tree seedling, and a science rat.

“It was probably good that Captain America’s soul is so old,” she tells them afterwards, the guards moving to clamp her cuffs back on as the rat begins to scuttle around in her cage. “You don’t have to control the spell for concrete you know, and depending on how far it went, he could have just been pushed out of existence.”

Tony shivers at the thought. He does not want to think about what would have happened if Steve had been de-aged past the point of his birth.

Once they are certain that Sallow can do what they want her to do (and once they know she is thoroughly convinced that doing so is in her best interests), they head back to the Tower to share the news with Steve and Bucky.

It feels a little weird coming back from a mission without either of them, but they land the quinjet, and Tony steps into the device that will remove his suit, his eyes turning to the door leading to the common room.

Steve and Bucky are inside, the duo glancing up from the couch as the Avengers troop in, Tony noticing with a flare of pride that Steve is sitting next to the coffee table, the lego spaceship and firetruck in the midst of some kind of daring rescue of Mr. Bear.

“Hey,” Bucky calls, his eyes darting over them as he checks for injuries. “How did it go?”

Tony swallows suddenly as he realises that they are going to have to explain to Steve that they had caught the person who had attacked him, and that they want to use that person now to reverse the effects. Not exactly great news for a six-year-old.

“Uh, yeah, it went good,” he starts as he and the Avengers begin to make their way over to the couches and sit down, Steve watching them quietly, his hands motionless on his truck. “We found the person,” Tony continues, looking over at Bucky. “And she’s agreed to turn Steve back.”

Back at the coffee table, Steve swallows and reaches for his bear, the boy tugging it towards himself as he moves to crawl up into Bucky’s lap, the stuffy clutched in front of him. Bucky’s arms tighten around Steve and he looks up at Tony. “Is it dangerous?” he asks.

Tony swallows and breathes in, shaking his head. “We don’t think so,” he says. “The spell is pretty much instantaneous, and Sallow seems pretty confident, and also very willing.”

Bucky nods slowly and looks down at Steve, the boy's face buried in his bear. “What do you think, Stevie?” he asks quietly. “They found the person who can change you back.”

Tony knows realistically that Steve doesn’t have much of a choice if they want to get him back. This is the simplest, and probably safest way to do it, and he really hopes that the kid is willing to work with them on this.

On Bucky’s lap, Steve shifts and glances up at his friend, his hands tightening on his bear. “She can make me big and strong?” he asks softly, and Bucky’s hands tighten just slightly on him, something flickering across his face.

“She can make you an adult again, Steve,” he says back. “That’s why we want to do it. Cuz you’re supposed to be an adult, not just cuz you’ll be strong.”

Steve blinks and he glances from Bucky to the rest of the group, his teeth tugging at his lower lip as he thinks. His lips press together, and he breathes in, looking up at Bucky, a familiar look of determination settling over his face. “Okay,” he says, his shoulders squaring a little. “Let’s do it.”

As he watches him, Tony thinks privately that Steve was strong a long time before he got the serum.

oOo

They bring Steve back to the SHIELD headquarters in New York, where Sallow is currently being held, and the boy reverts back to being held in Bucky’s arms, his eyes darting over the grey walls as he clutches at his bear.

“You’ll be okay, Steve,” Bucky says, as he rubs at his back. “We’re just going to go to med-bay. You remember Doctor Freedman?”

Steve nods quietly, and Tony follows as the duo makes their way down the hall to the med-bay. Doctor Freedman greets them with a smile as they enter, and Steve seems to relax just slightly at the sight of him.

“Hello Steve,” the doctor says, smiling as he guides the two over to sit on a bed. “It’s good to see you. I heard you had a little bit of an upset stomach, are you feeling better?”

Steve nods at him, his eyes peeking out from behind his bear as he leans back into Bucky's chest. “Bucky made pancakes for breakfast,” he tells him softly. “An’ I gotta have two.”

Freedman smiles warmly at that, and then begins to walk Steve through what is about to happen. “When you grow into an adult, you’ll be too big for your kid clothes,” he tells him. “So we’re going to give you a hospital gown to wear.”

He reaches over to hand him the gown before stepping away and pulling the privacy curtain over so that Bucky can help Steve into it. Once they are finished, he pulls it back, and Tony catches his first glimpse of Steve. The gown is adult sized, and he sits on the bed, absolutely swamped in it, one shoulder completely slipping off as he swings his feet in the extra cloth and holds onto Bucky’s hand, his bear still clutched in his other arm.

“We’re going to do it in here, so that we can check you afterwards,” Doctor Freedman tells him gently. “We’ll have a lot of people here to make sure it goes properly.”

Steve’s hand tightens on Bucky’s, and he nods determinedly, taking in a breath. “I’m ready,” he says.

Emily Sallow is escorted in by four guards, and her eyes dart over the congregated Avengers, before dropping down to look at Steve on the bed. “You really _are_ small,” she says in astonishment, and Tony can’t help gritting his teeth at that.

He knows that she probably means it as the fact that Steve is currently six, instead of the 20-something he is supposed to be, but he suspects that Steve will take it as in ‘small and sickly’.

In front of her, Steve presses his lips together and raises his chin. “You’re going to make me big again,” he says simply, clutching at his bear as he darts his eyes over Sallow.

An impressed look flickers over Sallow’s face and she rolls her shoulders, lifting her cuffed hands and looking at one of the guards. The guard lifts the key card for the cuffs and unlocks them, another guard hanging onto Sallow’s shoulder in case she feels the urge to teleport away.

The guard with the cuffs sticks close as well, and the group moves forward to stand in front of Steve’s bed. “You’ll have to let go of his hand,” Sallow tells him, glancing down to where Steve’s hand is still in Bucky’s. “We don’t want the spell reacting with anyone else.”

Steve looks up at her and swallows, his throat flexing as he releases his hold on Bucky and then turns to hand him Mr. Bear. “You can keep him safe for right now,” he tells him, and Tony can’t help noting how small and vulnerable he looks without the toy, the neck of his gown gaping open as he sits in front of Sallow.

Bucky accepts the bear reverently, and holds it carefully, his eyes pinned on Sallow as the woman breathes in and lifts her hand. Steve twitches slightly as she moves, but he holds his ground, his jaw clenching as he stares up at her and waits, his hands clasped tightly in his lap.

“This shouldn’t hurt,” Sallow tells him, turning her hand over so that a flare of green sparks up in her palm. Steve’s knuckles whiten in his lap, and Tony resists the urge to lean forward. Sallow lets the light flare in her hand for a second before she drops it down to Steve, her hand resting on his head.

Tony watches with bated breath, his eyes wide. He knows Sallow had been offered a deal with SHIELD in exchange for changing Steve back, but they are still trusting her not to sacrifice one for the team and take Steve out permanently. They are _also_ trusting that she will even be able to _do_ what they want, and that Steve will actually be brought back—

The light in her hand brightens and flares through the room, causing Tony to squint and draw up a hand to shield his eyes. The light fades and he blinks away the afterimages, looking back towards Steve’s bed.

Sallow is being held and cuffed again by the guards and Steve— Steve is being held up by Bucky, his eyes blinking confusedly as he looks around, the captain now fully sized for the first time in days.

Tony lets out a breath of relief, and back on the bed, Bucky grins, his hands tightening on Steve’s shoulders. “Welcome back,” he says, warm relief evident in his voice. “How are you feeling?”

Steve is understandably confused, and Bucky gives him the barebones of what had happened the last few days as Doctor Freedman moves in to start his examination, and Sallow gets taken off to be processed by SHIELD. Tony doesn’t know the full extent of what will be happening to her now, but he imagines that SHIELD will be keeping a rather close eye on her regardless.

“You were only a kid for about four days,” Bucky tells Steve, shifting away slightly so that Doctor Freedman can move in to listen to his heart. “You got a stomach bug, but you got over it pretty quickly.”

Steve huffs and glances down at the bear sitting next to Bucky’s leg, his eyes distant. “Figures I’d get sick,” Tony hears him mutter, and his tongue curls up in his mouth a little at the tone. Now that he knows a little bit more about how Steve’s illnesses had been treated… he can’t help wondering how the man feels about it personally.

And that brings up a whole other aspect of turning Steve back that Tony hadn’t had a chance to think about yet. He had been so focused on getting Steve back, that he hadn’t bothered to think about what that will _be_ like now. They all know about Steve’s dad now, they’ve all seen a glimpse of Steve when he was younger, and that is going to change things.

He isn’t sure yet if Steve remembers what had happened to him, but even if he never remembers, the rest of them will, and they will all remember what it had been like when Steve had been scared of them, and when Bucky had had to reveal why.

He swallows and looks away as Doctor Freedman continues on with the examination. It seems that Sallow had done exactly what she had said she would do, and Steve is soon cleared from med-bay with a clean bill of health.

There is a moment of awkwardness when Bucky picks up the bear, holding it a little uncertainly in his hand as Steve gets up. For his part, Steve blinks for a moment before reaching for it, a small smile flickering over his face as he brushes his hand over the bear’s head. “Did it have a name?” he asks, and Bucky relaxes.

“Mr. Bear,” he tells him with a grin. “Very original.”

oOo

They make it back to the Avengers Tower and Steve gets off at his floor. “I know we’ll probably have to debrief about this later,” he says, his eyes glancing over them. “But I’m just kind of tired.”

Tony scoffs internally at that as he rides up the rest of the way to the common room. If anyone should be allowed a break to rest, it would be Steve, but the man had somehow managed to look regretful about it.

He shakes his head and steps into the common room. At least Steve seems to still be himself after all this, even if it feels weird to see it after dealing with his child-self for the last few days.

His thoughts stall and his steps pause as his eyes catch sight of the coffee table, the lego spaceship and firetruck still sitting on top where kid-Steve had left them.

He stares at them, remembering how he had built them not that long ago, and how Steve had seemed to really enjoy the toy, opening up for one of the first times during his stay. He looks around, and bits of child-Steve seem to linger all over the place. His dishes are probably still in the kitchen, and Bucky probably still has all his clothes and blankets.

The common room is full of memories from the last week – Steve getting sick, Steve drawing with them, Bucky telling them about Steve’s dad, Steve shyly giving him a puzzle piece… He swallows and stares at the toys for a moment longer before spinning on his heel and marching back towards the elevator, his tongue working around in his mouth.

The toys had been for Steve. He leaves them there.

oOo

He doesn’t come up to the common room again until the next day. He had spent most of the night working in the lab, but the need for coffee drives him to resurface again, and he steps blearily out of the elevator, making a beeline for the kitchen.

It isn’t until he has half a cup down that he notices that the common room is empty, save for one person, Steve sitting crouched by the coffee table, the lego models still sitting in the same place as yesterday.

Tony’s stomach does a flip and he swallows uncertainly, his eyes on Steve. Now that he thinks about it, it probably isn’t easy for Steve _either_ , waking up to learn that he had been a child for several days among his teammates, and he watches Steve’s still form for a minute, trying to decide what to do.

Eventually he bites the bullet and steps out of the kitchen and heads towards the living room. Things are going to remain awkward until something happens to resolve it, so he might as well try.

Steve’s eyes flick up to him for a moment as he approaches, and Tony pauses a few paces back, his coffee cup still in hand as he looks down at Steve, his eyes glancing over the lego on the table. “Do you remember it?” he asks quietly.

Steve’s hand lifts slowly to rest on the red firetruck and he moves it back and forth a few inches, his eyes distant. “It’s… vague,” he says finally. “It’s like a dream that you forgot about, but then you see something that reminds you of it again.”

Tony nods and takes a drink from his cup, his eyes still on Steve. The captain rubs his thumb over the plastic of the truck before glancing up at him, his eyes flickering to the kitchen behind him and back again. “Did… did I really throw up in front of everyone?” he asks, and Tony buries a wince behind his coffee.

“Yeah,” he says ruefully, running a hand through his hair. “I guess we didn’t do a very good job at keeping you from getting sick.”

Steve drops his eyes and looks back towards the truck, his eyes clouded as he mutters lowly. “Yeah well, I got sick a lot.”

Tony swallows, his stomach clenching as he moves to sit on one of the couches, leaning forward slightly. “Yeah,” he says roughly, his eyes still on Steve. “You… got pretty scared about it.”

He doesn’t know how else to bring up the subject of what they had all learned, but he knows that if Steve is starting to remember what had happened, then they are either going to have to talk about it, or pretend it never happened.

Steve’s eyes dart to his for a moment, before he stares back down at the firetruck. “Bucky tell you why?”

Tony takes a dry sip of coffee and nods. “Yeah,” he says, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Steve doesn't look up, his eyes still on the truck. “It was a long time ago,” he says.

Tony flicks his eyes over Steve’s stiff shoulders, and he shifts, crossing one leg over the other. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “But I imagine this brought it all back up again, right?” Because it had certainly brought _Howard_ back up, and Tony can’t imagine what it had done for Steve.

Steve stays silent for a moment, before he rolls the truck back and forth again, his eyes staring past it as he thinks. At last he nods, his throat flexing as he swallows. “Yeah,” he says roughly.

His lips press together, and he swallows, his eyes still on the truck. “I used to think,” he starts, without moving his gaze, his shoulders stiffening slightly. “I used to think that if I could just be _good_ enough, if I could just not get sick, and keep quiet and out of the way, then maybe…” His gaze drops and he rolls the truck again. “Maybe he wouldn’t be so mad.”

Tony swallows thickly, Steve’s words reflecting a little too closely with his own self, when he had been busy building things, because maybe _this_ time it will get Howard's attention, maybe _this_ time it will be enough.

Enough to stop the drinking.

Enough to make him happy.

Enough to make him proud.

Of course, it doesn’t work that way, and even if some tentative truce is found, something _always_ happens, and it all comes crashing down within a few days.

He shakes his head and clears his throat. “Men like that,” he says, clutching at his cup, “it’s never enough for them. They’re never satisfied. They don’t _want_ to be.”

Steve’s eyes dart to his, and he swallows, his free hand clenching into a fist. “I know,” he says quietly. “I know. But sometimes, it would be good, and he wouldn’t get mad, and he’d ask me about school, or he’d sing along to the radio and then—” He swallows and turns back to stare unseeingly at the truck. “And then I’d get sick again, or forget to tell him I was staying over at Bucky’s, or– or something, and then it would get bad again.”

Tony swallows, his fingers white on the handle of his mug. “Yeah,” he says roughly. “Howard was like that too.”

Steve’s eyes dart up to his, and then away again, focusing back on the truck. “Yeah I—” His throat flexes and he rolls his shoulders. “From some of the things you’ve said, I— I kinda guessed something like that.”

Tony nods and takes another sip of this coffee, his knee tapping anxiously as Steve sits, his thumb running over the edge of the firetruck. “I never talked about him much, after,” Steve continues evenly. “Because I figured you probably didn’t want to but—” He sucks in a breath and glances up at him. “It pisses me off so much.”

Tony’s mouth quirks up in surprise, and Steve flicks a sharp smile at him. “I wish I could’ve been there sometimes,” he says, his hand tightening just slightly on the toy. “It makes me so angry that one of my friends would turn out to be like my dad, and I wish—” He huffs out a breath. “If I hadn’t died, then maybe I could’ve done something about it.”

Tony shifts and looks down into his coffee cup, swirling around the last of the liquid as he thinks. He isn’t exactly sure what Howard would have been like if Steve had been around, but in the end, it doesn’t really matter, because Howard had made his own choices.

“It’s not your fault,” he says simply, and Steve’s eyes lift up to meet his. “It’s not,” he continues, and he means it. “Not with Howard, and not with your dad. You can’t be responsible for their actions. That’s up to them.”

Steve nods, and looks back towards the coffee table, his hand moving on the truck again. “I know,” he says, letting out a deep sigh and stretching out his shoulders. “Bucky was pretty vocal about that after Pa died.”

Tony's mouth quirks up, and he watches as Steve lifts his hand to grab the blue spaceship, the man turning it slightly as he stares at it. His eyes dart up to Tony’s, and he smiles. “You know,” he says slowly. “As strange as this has been… I guess, it was kind of nice, for my younger self to get taken care of, just for a few days.” His mouth twitches. “Did you know JARVIS has bedtime stories?”

Tony can’t help laughing at that, and he shakes his head. “Can’t say I’m surprised,” he says. “He’s based off the butler I used to have.”

Steve’s eyes shine, and he moves to pick up the truck as well, the toys nestling in his arms as he leans forward to push himself off the ground. “Lego wasn’t invented when I was a kid,” he tells Tony as he stands, shifting the toys slightly in his arms and catching Tony’s eye. “So, I think I’ll have to keep these, you know, as a relic of my childhood.” His mouth quirks up, but there is a seriousness in his eyes. “I think I have a shelf they’ll look nice on.”

Tony relaxes back into the couch, and nods, saluting Steve slightly with his cup. “The spaceship is an expert at putting out fires from space,” he tells him. “Mr. Bear won’t have to worry at all.”

Steve’s face softens into a smile, and he turns away to head back to the elevator, the two toys cradled carefully in his arms. 

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this story! I really wanted to do a child-Steve story addressing his dad. I think he and Tony would have a lot in common, so I really wanted to do the aftermath scene too.
> 
> I hope you liked my explanation for the spell. Turning someone into a kid is a little strange, so I thought it would make sense that it was an accident, as well as fit with the ‘logic’ of magic.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Art for this story:**  
> [Here](https://www.deviantart.com/theunfortunatecat/art/For-16woodsequ-856231697) by the lovely [TheUnfortunateCat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUnfortunateCat/pseuds/TheUnfortunateCat)!
> 
> My tumblr:[16woodsequ](https://16woodsequ.tumblr.com/)


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